


Waxing

by Tulikettu



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Derek is secretly a romantic, Discussions of mpreg, Everyone Is Alive, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Top Derek Hale, but also can't make up his mind, fake relationships, i just need you all to know i don't like scott, scott is an arse, some kind of threat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2019-10-28 09:44:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17785085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tulikettu/pseuds/Tulikettu
Summary: The Hale land in Beacon Hills is being contended. Derek needs to prove he's not going anywhere. And the best way to do that, according to Deaton, is to have an heir.But they don't just grow on trees.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I think some of you have been waiting a long time for this fic. I dropped a preview in one of the later chapters of my last fic, and then kind of went quiet for a while. But here it is! I'm very nervous about throwing it out into the world, as I am with everything, but I hope you enjoy! Happy Valentines Day, everyone!

It's a curious sensation that Derek feels as he drives once again through Beacon Hills. It is, obviously, very much like coming home, but there's such a calmness, such a peace about the place that it doesn't feel quite right. Like he's driving into a parallel universe Beacon Hills that hasn't seen death and misery in abundance. 

But Deaton has called him back, so Derek is assured that things are probably going to take a darker turn pretty soon.

It's been a while. Years now. Three, maybe, since he was last here. Since he last saw anyone. It's Scott's territory. Derek was happy to relinquish the place to him before he left. To pass it on and bury all of the bad memories he had of the place. If Scott and the others wanted to hold onto it, then that was on them. 

He pulls into the parking lot of the animal clinic, looking around at the several other cars that are parked up there, filling the small parking lot. The clinic is closed now, most of the lights are off, so this is everyone. It’s everyone. 

Maybe it's because it's familiar too, but Derek finds himself looking for a baby blue jeep. There's no evidence of it.

The air smells heavily of rain and tastes of the trees as Derek makes his way to the back door. He’s come from the thick, smokey air of New York, and he’s almost forgotten the way forest smells. His wolf shivers happily, and there’s a small burst of energy beneath his skin, like he wants to run. The way he used to. 

Derek pauses halfway to the building and just breathes. He doesn’t want to miss it. He doesn’t want to long for this place and every individual scent that makes this home and nowhere else. Pushing the back door open, he lets himself into the largest and most familiar of Deaton's treatment rooms. 

Here he is assaulted not only with the heavy smell of chemicals and medicines, but of bodies, scents that he had once been so familiar with-

Their owners turn almost in unison to look at him, and he feels immediately as though he's imposing. 

Scott's pack. Scott's land, his brain reminds him as he looks around, too. 

 

Scott himself is at the far end of the room, still in his work scrubs, glaring. He’s sat in a chair facing the room, his posture aggressive. A little way over sits Allison, close to Isaac, then (to his relief) Boyd and Erica. He knew both of them had skipped town after he had, knew they’d set up home somewhere in the southern part of the state. Erica is pregnant, and that fills Derek with a warmth, a sense of pride. She would never have thought of having children when she was human, but now she is glowing, her hand resting on her stomach, the other one being held gently in Boyd’s. Both of them seem happy to see him.

Malia is beside them, then Kira, and then Stiles-

Derek pauses. For all that Scott hasn’t changed, Stiles looks like a completely different person. His hair is longer, his shoulders broader, a light dusting of hair covering his lower face. Derek doesn’t know what to do with himself. And for a few moments he thinks the sharp scent of alpha is coming from Stiles but no- no, that’s Lydia beside him. When he finally drags his eyes away from the only person in the room not looking at him, Derek counts off Lydia, then finally Jackson at her side. 

There’s a sweetness in the air too. Something that is calming to him, something warm that makes this seem just a little less daunting. 

Deaton is holding court, the only one standing, leaning casually against a large metal table.

“Glad you could make it,” he addresses Derek. “I’m sorry it was such short notice.”

“That’s fine,” Derek replies, despite having dropped everything to catch a flight from New York back down here, having to hire a car and book a hotel for whatever undisclosed amount of time-

He edges over to one of the remaining seats (a few spaces away from Jackson, keeping a gap between himself and the rest of the pack) and settles down- though no sooner has he sat than Scott is speaking.

“So, now you can tell us what this is about?” he snaps. Maybe being an alpha (the alpha) is wearing on him.

Out of the corner of his eye Derek sees Stiles finally glance over. For a second their eyes meet, and then Stiles looks away once more. 

“I received a message from the emissary of another pack,” Deaton begins without preamble. “The pack in question is coming to Beacon Hills and they intend to contest the land.”

“Why? We’re established here. They can’t-” Scott interjects sharply, as though Deaton isn’t going to offer any more of an explanation. “What is there to contest over?”

“They know Derek isn’t here anymore,” Deaton replies calmly. “And this has been Hale land for a very long time.”

“Derek gave it to me, so it’s my land, right?” Scott replies.

Derek, for all the truth in that fact, feels a flare of anger in his chest. Scott sounds like a spoilt child. Sounds so angry about it. 

"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that. Even if Derek has said verbally that this is your land, unless you kill him it doesn't belong to you," Deaton says, his tone strangely bright. 

Scott looks as though that's a small price to pay, that he'd be quite happy to kill Derek if it meant he wouldn't have to face contention for his land.

"So-" Scott starts slowly, his eyes fixed on Derek across the room. "I have to-"

"Or you can have his child," Deaton adds blithely. 

Scott's head swivels around so fast that Derek thinks he might break his neck, his expression going from relatively murderous to horrified. Derek would be amused, but he too is now staring at Deaton with disgust. 

"Well, I can't," Scott growls. "You mean be his mate? I’m an alpha. He’s an alpha. How is that supposed to work?" Again he’s speaking as though Deaton isn’t gently baiting them, as though the doctor doesn’t already have some kind of plan in place. 

"The land belongs to Derek and his family unless you kill him and take it. Derek not being here has meant the land is up for contention. And even with Derek here, even if we can convince them he still lives in Beacon Hills, the fact that he is unmated and has no heir to carry on the Hale line, no one to pass the land onto, there will probably be a problem either way."

"So you called me here to fight to the death?" Derek asks, getting prepared to stand up and leave because he doesn't need this shit. He'd be quite happy to leave Scott to fight for the town, he’s done it before, he can do it again if he wants it bad enough. Derek has no intention of potentially laying down his life for this place. 

"Or to father a child," Deaton adds.

Derek wants to punch him in the face for how casually he's talking about this. For how easily he’s just leaning against his table and looking at Derek as though he’s being a little irrational about the whole thing. 

"Why not Malia? She's got Hale blood, she could have a kid-"

"It has to be you. The line is following down from Talia. Malia isn't directly descended..."

Derek starts to pace. "Well, it's not that simple."

"That's why I gathered everyone here," Deaton says, as though he's been doing them a favour all along. "If you can get someone pregnant, if there is a Hale heir living here, then the claim to the land is theirs whether you reside here or not."

Tension is rising in the room. Derek feels sick. Erica is obviously out of the question, so he either has to get Lydia, Kira, or Allison pregnant-

"I'll do it."

This time Derek feels his own head spin, looking around the gathered people, following the wide eyes to the source of the statement.

Stiles is sitting up straight, his gaze fixed on Deaton. 

"Thank God," Derek hears Lydia breathe softly, but he's more interested in Stiles' offer. Stiles. 

"Stiles?"

His own voice sounds too quiet, too far away from him, but Stiles turns his head anyway and fixes him with a heartbreakingly sweet expression. 

"I'll do it," he says to Derek this time. "You can trust me. And we're- we were pretty close, right?"

Because of course Stiles knows that Derek isn't going to want to father a child with just anyone. Of course Stiles knows that effectively taking him as his mate means he needs to have some feelings- and sure, both of them had acknowledged that that ship had sailed a long time ago, that things always got in the way of them actually exploring that potential, but they could-

Only-

"How?" Derek realises that should have been his first question as soon as Stiles spoke, but he'd been too thrown off track, his mind already bubbling over with thoughts and images of the potential to remember the sticking point-

"Omega," Stiles says simply, a cocky little smile spreading over his face.

"No," Scott bites out. "No. No, you can't."

It's Stiles' turn to do the breakneck head swivel. "Excuse me?"

“You can’t. That’s ridiculous,” Scott replies. “You haven’t spoken to Derek in how long? And you’re just- no.”

Stiles stands up. He’s certainly taller than Derek remembers, lithe but broad at the same time, even if he is also obviously a little softer in places, around his hips and thighs. He fills out his clothes nicely. And if Derek were Scott, he’d be backing down.

“So you want us to just give up Beacon Hills to some random pack because what? You don’t want me to have sex with Derek?”

“Give up Beacon Hills?” Scott rises to his feet. “You think I couldn’t take on this pack? I’m pretty sure I’ve done it before.”

“You had a strong pack before,” Stiles returns. “We had help before. We had the rights to this land, and now we don’t. Now your crazy ass werewolf law says it isn’t ours until you fight for it, and the crazy ass laws always have some kind of an impact, don’t they?”

“It’s worth trying before you whore yourself out-” Scott says.

“And by then it’s going to be too late. They’ll be here and there’s no way you can turn around then and say ‘oh, and this is the guy carrying Derek Hale’s love child’” the mocking imitation of Scott’s voice would be funny in any other situation, but right now Stiles is just terrifyingly ballsy. “Because that child won’t exist. So we’ll be fucked. We’ll be beaten, and we’ll be fucked. And you might be dead. So you wanna weigh that up again? You wanna rephrase me whoring myself out to a ‘thanks, Stiles. Kind of you to offer’?”

Scott looks on the verge of shifting, his eyes are flashing, and Derek feels that same prickling, ready to stand up and get between the two of them. Stiles is stupidly brave, and maybe he trusts that Scott won’t hurt him, but Derek’s wolf doesn’t agree with that summation. 

He stands. Scott looks over Stiles’ shoulder to him, and Derek straightens up. He could take Scott. 

“Gentlemen. Can we all sit back down,” Deaton says softly, gesturing with his hand for them to all resume their seats. 

No one moves.

“Gentlemen,” for once Deaton’s voice is clipped, authoritative, and the three of them turn to look at him. “Sit down.”

Scott is the last to retake his seat, and he does so uncomfortably, tense, on edge.

“I think if Stiles is graciously willing to offer, the two of you should really discuss it,” Deaton says to Derek. “Consider it. I know it isn’t ideal. I know it isn’t what you would really want, but it is our most viable option.”

Making a child for the sake of this place is abhorrent to Derek. Having a child raised in this place that has taken everything for him makes his insides hurt. But he looks at Stiles, who is watching him with patience and gentleness, and if Derek were ever going to create a life, he would want it to be with him. Somehow that makes sense to him. 

“We can talk about it,” Derek says, addressing Stiles only, even though he can see Scott in the background glowering, fidgeting. “I’d like to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Stiles nods, a bright smile flickering over his face before he manages to reign it back in. 

“Wonderful. Great,” Lydia chimes in then, the first of their audience to speak, and the different voice startles Derek for a second. “Now that’s sorted out and everyone has finished pissing on each other, can we go? It’s a work night, I haven’t had dinner-” She stands up, smooths down her skirt and looks around expectantly. 

“Yeah, I’d...I think we should go,” Malia says, her eyes shifting uneasily to Scott and then back around the room.

“Okay then,” Lydia doesn’t seem to want to wait for any more agreement, tucks her chair back against the wall, and then clips out of the room with a little waggle of her fingers, an airy goodbye. 

Jackson and Boyd busy themselves moving all of the chairs back into the waiting room, and Derek says goodnight to Allison, Isaac, and Erica as they pass him. Kira’s expression is rather tight as she passes, and then it’s just the most awkward fourple left, with Deaton supervising. 

Scott still hasn’t stood up, but that seems to be keeping his annoyance contained. Malia looks sour, and Derek doesn’t really blame her. She’s been told she’s not Hale enough to be useful. Not even as the ruling alpha’s partner. 

Stiles rises, straightens his clothes, and doesn’t look towards his best friend. His eyes are fixed on Derek. And that sweet scent from earlier comes back. It washes over him and takes away all of the annoyance. It feels like an age since he last smelt an omega properly. Diluted somewhat, Stiles is probably taking pills, but God it’s beautiful. 

“Call me,” Stiles says softly as he passes Derek, his hand lingering on Derek’s lower arm. “I’m serious. I’m serious about this. I want to help.”

“I know. I- thank you,” Derek replies. He can’t stop himself from touching, either. His hand goes to Stiles’ hip. “Your number-?”

“Hasn’t changed,” Stiles replied. Then he adds without missing a beat. “Do you need it?” Because he knows Derek. He knows that there’s a chance Derek deleted all of their numbers as soon as he made it out of state. 

He fishes his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it, and hands it over.

“Look at you, keeping up with technology,” Stiles chides playfully, his smile making little dimples appear in his cheeks. He smells so good. Derek breathes in shallowly, for the moment having no regrets about coming back here. And the prospect of fathering a child with Stiles doesn’t seem so radical. 

His phone is pressed back into his hand, and Stiles squeezes Derek’s fingers closed around it. “Call me,” he says again, offering Derek one more smile before he’s brushing passed, literally brushing, and heading out the door.

****

Derek drives back to his hotel and checks in. He doesn’t really know what to do with himself. He had gone straight to Deaton’s after hiring his car, so now he’s standing in a fresh room, holding his case and his laptop bag and feeling out of place. Not that the apartment he left back in New York is particularly lived in, but it’s familiar, it smells of him. This room just smells of strangers and starched sheets. 

Unpacking his clothes into the wardrobe and his other bits and pieces into drawers and onto the desk takes about five minutes. 

And he’s now very aware of how quiet it is. Even being fifteen storeys up with double glazing in New York he could hear the city; constant cars, sirens, horns. Here the silence yawns around him. He can hear his own pulse. 

Opening the window, the sweet, rainy air washes over him again. Derek breathes in. He can hear a few cars, can hear animals and birds, can hear the conversation a couple are having over a cigarette outside the hotel. It’s better. 

He hasn’t really let himself think about what had happened with Deaton, what the conversation has meant, what the conclusion is. But there isn’t a whole lot he can do to distract himself now. And Derek really has to know what he wants so that he can have a conversation with Stiles. 

Stiles, who is an omega. Stiles, who can carry his child. 

 

Derek only has a small handfuls of names in his phone, and now one of them is Stiles. He’s going to call, but there’s too much pressure on that. Texting is nice. Texting he can be fully on board with.

Derek (20:04): Hi

Stiles (20:06): Hey, Der! X

Derek snorts at the enthusiasm, and then sighs at the warmth of the familiarity. He’d always put kisses on his texts to Derek, like it would get a little rise out of him, but Derek had just never sent one back. He has no intention of doing it now, but he does like it. 

Derek (20:07): Do you want to have coffee tomorrow? We should talk.

Stiles (20:10): I have an hour for lunch at midday. Otherwise I finish at five. X

Derek (20:10): Where do you work?

There are longer pauses between Stiles’ replies. Derek kind of wants to know what he’s doing. 

Stiles (20:15): I’m a cop, buddy! X

Of course. Derek should have known that. But working for the police is going to make it difficult for Stiles if he’s pregnant. He can’t go out and patrol, he can’t go anywhere dangerous, it’s not going to be ideal. But Stiles knows what he’s doing. Derek has to keep reminding himself that Stiles offered.

Derek (20:16): Congratulations. Perhaps lunch?

Then he doesn’t have to spend all day wondering. 

Stiles (20:19): Okay, smooth talker. You want me to come and pick you up? X

Derek (20:19): Pick somewhere and I’ll meet you there. I’ll pay.

He’s pretty sure that in three years a few places will have popped up in town that he isn’t aware of. He didn’t really go out a lot the last time he lived here, and the places he used to hang out as a kid have all changed. He’s developed quite a pallet for coffee in New York, and kind of craves some now, even if he should sleep, compensate for the flight and the timezones. 

Stiles hasn’t text back yet. Derek should have asked if he still lived with his dad. He could drive over there. But then the Sheriff might not be impressed with a man turning up on his doorstep to discuss knocking up his only child. 

He paces the room, goes to stand at the window again. The moon was full last week, the side of it is shaved off now, bright in the cloudless sky. Derek has spent most of the moons alone in his apartment. The few wolves he found in New York liked to spend their moons indulging in each other, and that isn’t really Derek’s thing. Once or twice, yes, when the lack of a pack and the loneliness was too much for him to resist the draw of company. 

If he’s still here at the next moon… that’s going to be very different. 

Stiles (20:46): There’s a coffee shop around the corner from the station. The muffins are great! And they do police discount. X

Derek (20:47): You can’t have a muffin for lunch, Stiles. 

Stiles (20:47): It’s my body, Derek, OMG! I’ll do what I want! X

Derek (20:47): Stiles

Stiles (20:49): I’m joking, Der. I’m just teasing you. But I am having a muffin for lunch. And a large coffee. Maybe a sandwich. X

Derek (20:50): And yet you still manage to keep your figure.

Stiles (20:50): Some guys like a bit of junk in the trunk. I have to keep them happy. X

Derek frowns at his screen. He isn’t particularly comfortable with the thought of Stiles pleasing other men. It isn’t any of his business, and he isn’t stupid enough to think that Stiles hasn’t notched up some numbers, but he doesn’t like it. Which is stupid. 

Derek (20:51): You’re so considerate. I’ll be by the station at 12. 

He’s hungry, now that he thinks about it. He ate on the plane but it wasn’t much. There’s a Subway just down the street. He could go for a salad. Or drive out and find something a bit more substantial, but he’s not really in the mood to drive. He might not stop if he starts. 

Derek’s jacket and shoes are back on, and he’s out the door, and Stiles still hasn’t replied. He gives a little bit of consideration to going over there now, but maybe Stiles is showering or in bed or...doing something else, and it would be entirely inappropriate. 

The last message comes through whilst the guy in Subway is throwing Derek’s choice of salad in a box, but he doesn’t read it until he’s walking home. 

Stiles (21:15): Wonderful. See you tomorrow. Night, Der! X

He waits until he’s in to reply, as though it’ll give Stiles a taste of his own medicine. As though Stiles will care. 

Derek (21:21): Good night, Stiles. 

Derek eats his salad and doesn’t anticipate a reply. 

***

He is a little early, standing outside the police station feeling rather shifty. He’s been in countless numbers of times, but he doesn’t feel like he should go in now. He texts Stiles to let him know where he is, and then he waits. 

It’s not a long wait, but God it’s worth it. 

Stiles wanders out in his uniform, and Derek is admittedly thrown by how good it looks on him. He’s not the kind of man to be particularly turned on by something as simple as a uniform, but it might have been knowing Stiles as a gangly sixteen year old and seeing him now, grown up, that gave it some extra shine. 

The other man smiled at him, sauntering over with his hands in his pockets. 

“Look at you,” Derek smiles back (a smile that is maybe a little bit more like a smirk). 

“You are, aren’t you? You like what you see?” Stiles turns slowly on the spot and yes, Derek takes advantage of what is on offer. “Well, that’s a good start. Come on, I need feeding. Gotta keep these curves well supplied.”

Stiles is bubbly, chatty, and fills Derek in on all the things that might have changed in town since Derek was last here. 

 

“How will your dad feel about us having a child together,” Derek says, stirring his coffee slowly. 

Stiles has gone from bubbly to jittery, gazing into his own cup, his knee jiggling up and down. His muffin is half eaten. “I want kids. Of course I do, I’m an omega-” he huffs gently, not looking up. “But I can’t- I won’t mate. I mean, I won’t have a mate. An alpha. I can’t.” 

Derek nods his understanding. Stiles isn’t the type, no matter his status, to allow himself to be made into a submissive partner. And it doesn’t have to be a sentence like that, now. He can be an independent omega, he has the right to it. And certainly most alphas were in line with that way of thinking as well, but there are certain things about being mated, intrinsic, instinctive things that Stiles would succumb to that would probably make him miserable in the long run. 

“So I guess this would work out well for the both of us,” Derek murmurs, similarly fixing his gaze down, admiring the bubbles clinging together on the top of his drink as his spoon moves around. 

“Yeah. You can go back to New York once I’m pregnant. Or once our pup is born-” Pup. Stiles uses the term so easily, even throws in a little shrug of his shoulders. It isn’t as common a term outside of wolf pairings anymore. “-I have a lot of people here who’d help. You wouldn’t be obligated to stay.”

Derek stops stirring, rubbing his face with his other hand before he looks up at Stiles. Stiles still has incredible eyes, like gold, just clear, brilliant gold. Full of sincerity. He breathes in slowly. The air smells of sugar, but he can still pick out Stiles’ scent. There’s a wordless stretch of time as Derek thinks it over, before he can work out what it is he’s thinking and feeling.

“I don’t think I can leave,” he admits finally, heavily. “I don’t think I could leave you both.”

Stiles shrugs his shoulders gently again, but it’s far less casual this time, and there’s a warmth in his eyes. “I always thought you’d be a good dad-” he says, then adds just as gently. “Are you seeing someone in New York? Would this make it difficult for you?”

“No,” Derek replies, perhaps too fast. “No, I’m not seeing anyone.” He looks across at Stiles, who is now meeting his gaze. “Are you?”

“No. It’s kind of difficult to be with someone when you’re pretty sure it’s just because you smell like a fuck toy.”

Derek frowns at him. “You don’t. I mean, you smell great-” Stiles’ soft omega scent is filling the air around them, and Derek has been happily breathing it in since they sat down. “But I’m not about to strip us both naked and have my way with you here-”

Stiles’ eyes twinkle for a second, and Derek feels a flush creeping into his cheeks.

“That’s because you don’t just think with your dick,” Stiles says. “And that’s another reason I’m happy to do this. I know you’ll respect me. You won’t make shit weird.”

Derek nods slowly to buy himself some more thinking time, which doesn’t help because nothing conclusive crops up.

“So, what’s next?” is all he manages, finally lifting his cup to his lips. 

“My heat is still a couple of weeks away and I don’t think we can wait that long, even if it is pretty much a guarantee. I think we should start trying as soon as possible. I’ve come off of my birth control, and even if it takes a few days to get back to normal, I don’t think we should waste time.” 

Derek gazes at him, wondering how Stiles can be so pragmatic about this. But it is Stiles’ body. He knows it better than Derek. He’s probably a lot of time thinking about all of the possibilities open to him. Stiles has always been the one with the plan.

“So- would you like to go for dinner tonight or tomorrow?” Derek starts, watching the momentary softness that covers Stiles’ face before it’s back to business. 

“We don’t have to date, Derek,” he says gently. “I don’t need that.”

“You just want to get together and have sex?” Derek asks, hoping that doesn’t sound too crass or...disappointed?

But Stiles nods, giving yet another shrug of his shoulders. “I don’t see why not. It’s not like we’re strangers. We have something between us, but we don’t have to force that. I think it’s pretty obvious that our baby will be more than just insurance.”

Our baby. Derek lets out a breath, nodding his head, though his brain is stuck on that one thought. 

“I’ll come over tomorrow,” Stiles says gently. “After work. What’s your room number?”

“421,” Derek replies, wishing they had somewhere better than a hotel room to do this so that it wasn’t so sordid.

“Okay,” Stiles smiles, standing like it’s the end of a business meeting. “Thanks for the coffee. I really need to get back to work. I’d better make the most of these before I’m on the decaf.” He gives Derek a bright smile and knocks back the rest of his drink, then hesitates, clearly wondering how to say goodbye.

“I’ll fill you with sushi, beer, and coffee whilst I can,” Derek says, a little thrown at the abrupt end to their lunch. He doesn’t stand, doesn’t get up and embrace Stiles the way he actually wants to, because that seems like too much all of a sudden. “See you tomorrow.”

Stiles seems happy with that sign off, his posture relaxing as he gives Derek a small wave before heading back out to the busy street, turning in the direction of the station. Derek watches him until he’s out of view, trying to ignore the nagging of something in his chest.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek has some decisions to make.
> 
> Stiles wants to get started on the plan.
> 
> Derek doesn't argue with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been just over a month since the last chapter. My real life is crammed full of nonsense right now, and my brain has been awful to me of late. If there's any editing problems please let me know, I tried my best. Thank you for your patience, and for all of the comments and kudos so far.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter! <3

 

“I think you need to make it look like you’re really settling back down. Make it believable,” Deaton says the following morning in the back room of the animal clinic.

 

Derek is nursing yet another coffee, nodding his head, half listening and half thinking about the coming evening. 

 

“Like you found your mate and you want to resettle here where you’re meant to be-”

 

A little shiver runs through him, and Derek looks up. Deaton gazes back at him, waiting for Derek to catch up.

 

“You want me to restore the house,” Derek says around the bitter taste of putting it into words.

 

“Or at least make a show of it until the inspection is over.”

 

“Inspection,” Derek scoffs, sipping his drink. “When is our  _ inspection? _ How long have I got?”

 

“I don’t know. But you may want to make an actual effort. Your child is going to be living around here, even if you aren’t. It might be nice for them to inherit it-”

 

Derek snorts. He doesn’t want his child living in that place. On that land-

 

“I’ll just buy a house. I don’t want to move back there. I don’t want them living there. Either of them.”

 

“Seems a bit extravagant-”

 

“I’m staying,” Derek adds. “I’m moving back here. I want to help Stiles. To be here for them both.”

 

Deaton nods his head as though he isn’t surprised. As though he knew that already. “If you’re moving back, though, then there’s no rush with conceiving a child-”

 

“You said yourself it was going to be a contention soon enough. If I’m here just to hold the land then- I need more of a reason to be here. Making this place good enough for...I never wanted to come back.”

 

Again the doctor nods, understanding. 

 

“Stiles is coming over tonight-” Derek starts, wanting to get that off his chest, too, to lift the weight. “We-” the door opening cuts him off and Scott enters. He immediately narrows his eyes and glares between Derek and Deaton.

 

“I’m on break now,” he says stiffly.

 

“I’ll get out and do some work, then,” Deaton smiles. Derek takes the cue and stands, finishing his coffee.

 

“Thanks for the advice,” he says to Deaton, heading towards the side door to leave out the back.

 

“That’s what I’m here for,” Deaton nods. “Enjoy your break, Scott.”

 

“Scott,” Derek nods at the other man as he walks away, getting nothing but a glare in return.

  
  


He has the rest of the day to think about what Deaton has said, and to consider his options. He could build on the land, he still owned it, he had the money, or he could buy a house somewhere else in Beacon Hills and just let nature retake everything he wanted to forget. Or knock it down and let it get covered over. Not tell his child where it was, let it fall out of memory. 

 

But no matter how much he tries to think otherwise, he can’t stop himself from wanting to live on the land his family had owned. And once that thought took root, he can’t push away the image of himself helping to build the house his child would grow up in and inherit. Or just inherit, he can’t assume that Stiles will want to live there, even though they should. Together, the three of them. Like a pack. How it is meant to be. 

 

He could build the new house closer to the main road, so that people didn’t have to drive all the way through the preserve to get to them. Him. It. Big, but not as big as the old one. A library. Stiles would like that. He should ask Stiles what he’d like, put it into the plans. Integrate themselves into this one place.  

 

Derek showers and pulls on some clothes for now, before he settles down with his laptop. He can demolish what remains of the old house himself. He has to do that. And that will fill the time whilst he finds a good architect and gets that ball rolling.

 

He hadn’t been bored in New York, but there is something about this challenge that excites him.

 

Half past five finds him sprawled over the bed, the smell of coffee hanging in the air from his abuse of the room’s machine. He’s engrossed in reviews of architects, and is almost annoyed by the knocking on the door. He hasn’t ordered anything- who-?

 

Realisation dawns on him just as a second knock sounds, and Derek scrambles to his feet, stumbling ungracefully towards the door, one of his legs having fallen asleep from too long curled beneath him.

 

Stiles stands there on the other side of the door looking pretty casual, as though unphased by this whole set up. He grins and lifts a hand in greeting, his gaze sliding quickly up and down Derek in his own casual attire.

 

“Hey! I was thinking I got the wrong room, or you’d changed your mind, maybe fled town-”

 

“No- I was just- I was on my laptop,” Derek explains, flustered, running his fingers through his hair before he stands aside and lets Stiles in.

 

“You look hot, by the way,” Stiles adds, dropping the small bag he is carrying down by the chest of drawers, before gesturing wildly around his head. “The rumpled look- and the PJs. Relaxed looks good on you.”

 

Derek looks down at his attire, mortified to realise that yes, he is actually in his pajamas.

 

“I’m so sorry. I meant to change before you got here-” he starts, cheeks burning with embarrassment. It feels important somehow. Feels like he should have made more effort. 

 

“Why?” Stiles laughs, shrugging off his jacket. “We’re only going to be taking everything off, anyway.”

 

Derek makes a choking sound as Stiles toes off his shoes, then he pauses, watching Derek.

 

“I’m nervous, too,” Stiles says softly, taking a few steps closer. “But we’ll be okay. You’re sexy, and I’m apparently pretty fertile according to my omgyn-”

 

Derek makes another noise, but by that point Stiles is standing directly in front of him, almost shyly.

 

“You can still back out,” he says.

 

“No,” Derek breathes, his eyes roaming over Stiles’ beautiful face- because damn, they haven’t stood this close in a long time, and Stiles is just so- “No, I want this.”

 

“I’m gonna kiss you,” Stiles says. The word ‘ _ finally’ _ goes unspoken, but Derek feels it there between them.  

 

“Good,” Derek hears himself say instead, his hands reaching for Stiles even as Stiles steps right into his space, easily bringing his hand up to cup the back of Derek’s head as though to tell him there’s no changing his mind, now.

 

Their lips meet, and Derek feels it in every atom of his body, as though this- this is what he’s been waiting for his whole damn life.

 

A sweet cloud of scent rises up around Stiles, too. Just a gentle assurance that he’s very into this, and that their first kiss is good for him-

 

Derek pulls him closer so that their bodies press together from thigh to chest, and Stiles lets out a soft little moan at the contact. And doesn’t pull away. Just parts his lips and lets his tongue drag along the seam between Derek’s until Derek obediently opens up.

 

He hears himself whimper and feels Stiles smirk between their mouths, one hand still twined in Derek’s hair, the other slyly working its way under Derek’s t-shirt.

 

“You’re still a damn adonis,” Stiles murmurs without moving away, fingers grazing over Derek’s abs.

 

Derek says nothing. He wants to peel Stiles’ clothes off right now so that he can see the changes in his body that have only been hinted at with his clothes on, indulge in the curves that he can feel beneath them, pushed up against him

 

He slides his palms up under the other thin layer of fabric that keeps their bodies apart, mapping the soft skin there, pleased when Stiles shivers and he feels goosebumps meet his touch. 

 

Pulling both hands away from Derek, Stiles breaks the kiss, but before Derek can even start to make an apology for whatever it is he may have done, the other man is pulling his own shirt off, throwing it across the room, like he doesn’t care where it lands, like he has no reason to ever want to cover himself up. 

 

He’s immediately touching Derek again, immediately resuming their kiss, and Derek’s fingers get to work following the soft curves of Stiles’ body, over his hips and his belly, over the slight dips of his abs and then back to run up his spine. Stiles’ shoulders are broader and there’s a patch of hair between his pecs. He’s so beautifully masculine, but the softness of his hips and stomach are just as erotic to Derek. They tell him that Stiles is an omega, that he’s ready to carry a child. He’s ready to carry  _ Derek’s _ child. 

 

Oh,  that and he smells so fucking good.

 

Stiles doesn’t wait much longer before he persistently grabs at the hem of Derek’s shirt and pulls it up, discarding it in the direction of the now growing pile. He runs his fingers through the hair on Derek’s chest, and that sweet smell increases in intensity.

 

“You like?” Derek manages to rasp out, trying to not feel too self conscious of his body under Stiles’ scrutiny, nor the fact that his cock is pulsing against Stiles’ thigh.

 

“You’re just my type,” Stiles grins. “And you’re this hard just from kissing?” he asks, his hand trailing down to cup Derek, who lets out an embarrassingly needy moan. 

 

“Let me guess,” Stiles says, fingers nimbly undoing the buttons and zipper. “It’s been a long time?”

 

“Actually, you’re just my type,” Derek replies, his brain apparently up and running again. He stoops a little, hands on Stiles’ backside as he lifts him and turns, throwing Stiles down onto the bed.

 

Now he can look him up and down properly, drink in the shape of him, muscles and curves. Stiles’ bravado seems to slide away rapidly under Derek’s gaze, fidgeting, his hands seeming to not know which bit to cover, going from chest to belly and back again.

 

“Stop,” Derek insists, his voice firm, expression almost stern.

 

Stiles’ arms drop to his side obediently, but Derek doesn’t want him to be uncomfortable.

 

“You really- you’re so hot,” he murmurs, eyes moving hungrily over every inch of the man beneath him. “You don’t have to hide any of yourself. Please don’t.”

 

Stiles shrugs. “Some guys like their omegas- different,” he explains, as though Derek doesn’t know what other alphas (and betas) are like. “I’m kinda too masculine here-” Stiles pats to his chest, the muscles, the hair. “But here I’m kinda-” he jiggles his belly, then one of his thighs, and Derek feels his cock twitch. “Fat.”

 

Derek opens his mouth but he doesn’t know what he’s going to say. ‘I’m not any of those other guys’ or ‘you’re not fat’ or ‘even if you got bigger I wouldn’t care because I’m even more into you than I realised.’

 

None of those words come out. Instead Derek is leaning forward, leaning down, and pressing his mouth to the warm skin at Stiles’ belly, nuzzling, humming happily. Instinct tells him this is a good body for pups, they’ll be strong and healthy. His cock tells him that Stiles is so sexy that he’ll need to be careful he doesn’t blow his load too soon.

 

Stiles whimpers, fingertips dancing in Derek’s hair, as though he doesn’t know whether to pull his mouth closer or push him away. 

 

“Derek,” he whispers softly, a plea, wanting everything all at once but worried it’ll be too much. He’s wanted this for years, Derek here, like this, and he wants to savour it.

 

Derek growls quietly, pulling at the fastenings of Stiles’ pants, tugging them down his hips and thighs.

 

He pauses, letting out a groan when the scent of Stiles’- Stiles’  _ slick _ rises to greet him. He breathes in deeply, feeling almost drunk. It’s been a long time since he’s smelt an omega, and he’s pretty sure it was never this good. 

 

Stiles is still making soft noises, still shivering. He doesn’t move, though. Doesn’t prompt Derek either way, though he’s proved enough that he won’t put up with something he doesn’t like. Even if he is spread out beneath an alpha, that isn’t Stiles.

 

So Derek leans back and pulls Stiles’ jeans and underwear off, grinning as he tosses it carelessly in the direction of their clothes.

 

Stiles is hard, and a soft flush covers his skin, creeping up from his belly to his cheeks. Derek’s gaze drifts from mole to mole, tracing a path up Stiles’ body until their eyes meet.

 

“You approve?” Stiles asks, his tone cocky but unable to keep the nervousness from his expression.

 

Derek lowers his own pants and underwear, his cock hard and leaking at the tip as it curves up towards his belly. He stands there, showing off in a way he can’t remember doing for any other lover. Standing there letting Stiles look at him.

 

“Yeah, yeah, God-” he breathes, as though his erection isn’t evidence enough. The air is full of the smell of Stiles’ arousal, and Derek wants to bottle it and keep it, cover himself in it.

 

He steps forward again, placing a hand on either side of Stiles’ thighs, pushing them apart. 

 

The scent rises again, and Derek can feel his mouth watering. Stiles is very still, his breathing soft, his heart pounding heavily.

 

Derek lowers himself down and, without hesitation, runs his tongue over the younger man’s wet opening. Stiles lets out a little yelp, arching up, pressing himself towards Derek’s mouth. 

 

_ Fuck _ .

 

His tongue slips inside Stiles, pushing past the surprisingly tight muscle and into the sweet wetness. Derek groans, the noise almost a sob as he basks in the taste, the scent, the reactions he’s getting.

 

Stiles’ fingers find Derek’s hair, petting, stroking through in encouragement, tugging gently as he moans.

 

Derek knows they’re supposed to be having sex, his cock should be where his tongue is, they’re supposed to be making a baby- but Derek can’t deny himself this. Stiles smells so good, and he tastes incredible, and there isn’t anything wrong with foreplay. Stiles isn’t just a means to achieve an ends, he’s a body that Derek has wanted to be pressed against for a long time, he’s a man that Derek has wanted to be closer to for years. 

 

His cock is aching between his legs, heavy, a gentle pulse at the base where his knot would want to form.

 

Stiles’ fingers tighten in his hair, and Derek presses closer; his hands holding Stiles’ legs open as his mouth works, eating Stiles out like a passion, indulging himself, his tongue pressing in, curling around, filling his mate. 

 

“Fuck! Oh God, Derek, fuck!” Stiles moans. Not that Derek need encouraging, but those noises are so fucking beautiful. And Stiles is so wet. “Jesus, oh God, you feel so good, oh fuck, Derek. Fuck. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me-”

 

Derek rumbles, his hands moving up towards Stiles’ hips, hands splaying over them. He isn’t holding Stiles still, he just wants to touch, wants to feel the way his body moves, to press down into the softness-

 

Stiles whimpers at the touch, but Derek isn’t sure if he’s happy or anxious about being touched the way he is.

 

“Stiles,” Derek drags his tongue up, his eyes tinged with bright blue as he looks at the other man. “You’re so fucking hot.” He’s panting as he moves up so that he can kiss Stiles’ hip and thighs. His thighs are softer, too, carrying a little fat, and Derek loves them. “This, all of this-” he gropes Stiles’ belly, too, and this time Stiles moans happily. “Jesus, Stiles-”

 

“Oh my God,” Stiles purrs. “You. Oh- I-”

 

Derek cuts him off by moving back down between his legs, licking up the new slick that has built up.

 

Stiles lets out another sob, and Derek is pleased with himself. Very pleased.

 

His hands relocate to Stiles’ inner thighs, keeping them held open and allowing himself to indulge in how Stiles’ skin feels in his grasp. It also gives him leverage to push his tongue deeper, curling it to penetrate Stiles.

 

“Derek- Derek. Derek!” Stiles voice is cracking, pleading, and Derek can feel the tip of his cock leaking, and the swell of his knot, the pulsing at the base. “Gonna- I’m gonna come-”

 

Stiles’ fingers curl briefly around the base of his dick, and he manages to get in two strokes before he tenses, his muscles clenching around Derek’s tongue as he comes.

 

Derek groans both at the grip and the increase in the wetness across his tongue, enjoying the way Stiles continues to gasp an tremble as he rides out his pleasure, and Derek- Derek has gone down on people before, but nothing has ever been this fucking glorious. He crawls up the bed towards Stiles, his cock heavy between his legs, and Stiles’ fingers welcome him, sliding over his shoulders and chest, up his neck-

 

“Stiles-”

 

“Oh my God, Derek-”

 

“Stiles you’re so hot-”

 

“Holy shit.”

 

“I need to-”

 

Their mouths meet messily and Derek can’t help but groan at how eagerly Stiles’ tongue licks up the flavour of his own slick, pressing into Derek’s mouth for a slow, dirty kiss.

 

“I want to be inside you,” Derek breathes, because even though that’s the whole point of him being here, he still wants to ask.

 

“Yes,” Stiles whimpers, shifting around beneath Derek as though Derek needs further invitation. 

  
“Wanna get in you before I knot-” Derek murmurs, reaching down to guide himself towards Stiles’ entrance.

 

“Just stretch me, I don’t care. I don’t care-” Stiles pants before he breaks off in a beautiful moan when Derek pushes inside him.

 

His orgasm has made Stiles tighter, and that’s even before Derek’s knot has begun to swell properly.

 

Derek shudders, biting his lip to try and stop himself from coming right then as his cock is enveloped in the silky-tightness of Stiles’ body.

 

Stiles’ fingers press into his shoulders, his head arched back, a look of pure ecstacy on his face. Derek leans in, pressing his nose beneath Stiles’ jaw and breathing in.

 

It’s dizzying. His scent feels like a drug. Derek’s hips roll forward, both of them groaning out together as Derek bottoms out, then begins to move, rocking into the man beneath him. 

 

Now his knot is really beginning to swell, encouraged by everything about Stiles; his body, his scent, the slickness around him. Stiles, who has now turned his head to flutter little kisses over Derek’s face until their lips meet again in a searing kiss. His arms wind around Derek’s shoulders whilst Derek’s slip beneath him, holding each other as they move. The kiss breaks only for one of them to gasp, then they resume, all heated kisses and tight embrace.

 

“I feel it,” Stiles pants. “I feel your knot.”

 

“Yeah,” is all Derek can really say, because fuck. 

 

“I’m gonna come again,” Stiles says softly, fingers dragging through Derek’s hair in a way that sends a shiver down his spine.

 

“Fuck,” Derek gasps, moving his hips faster, feeling himself swelling. “Want you to. I’m getting close.” He’s feeling a little more resistance as his knot grows. 

 

Stiles cries out loudly as Derek’s knot catches, locking them together. Now all Derek can do is grind against him, chasing his orgasm-

 

“So good, ohmyGod so good-” Stiles whimpers, which pleases Derek a lot. He wants their child to be conceived through mutual pleasure.

 

_ Their child. _

 

Derek tenses, letting out a low groan as his cock pulses and his orgasm rushes through him, filling Stiles.

 

They’re trying to make a baby.

 

Stiles cries out again, the scent of his arousal and pleasure billowing around him, his muscles clenching and gripping Derek’s knot, milking another orgasm from him.

 

Stiles’ neck is exposed, his head thrown back, a flush deepening as it creeps up his pale skin. Derek stoops and presses his face there, nuzzling, inhaling until he feels dizzy. He rubs himself gently against the skin, scent marking Stiles, claiming him for himself.

 

Stiles whimpers and slides his fingers through Derek’s hair, turning him, pulling him away from his neck to kiss. The kiss is soft, tender, and again Derek feels it all the way through him. They pant gently against each other’s lips, Stiles’ eyes closed, his ridiculous lashes fanned over his flushed cheeks.

 

_ He’s beautiful _ , Derek thinks, and hopes that their child looks more like Stiles.

 

“You feel so good,” he whispers the praise, bumping their noses together and hoping that Stiles doesn’t mind that they’re going to be locked together for a while.

 

A lazy grin drifts over Stiles’ face. “I’m glad you think so-” he hums softly. “Means I won’t have to try and coax you into bed again-”

 

Derek huffs but he knows, he knows they’ll have to do this again. They’ll have to continue until Stiles is with child.

 

“Probably won’t take too long,” Stiles says, as though reading Derek’s mind. His fingers wander slowly through Derek’s hair, lips brushing Derek’s cheek as he speaks. “I saw someone before, like I said, to check I’d be okay doing this. My doctor says I’m very fertile.”

 

Derek’s vision blurs red for a second after Stiles speaks, his cock twitching, pumping more come into his mate. 

 

Stiles notices, and though his eyebrows may have risen, his pupils are wide. “Oh, you like that?” he breathes as Derek feels the blush darken his already flushed cheeks. “You like that I’m so fertile? That it’ll be so easy to put your baby in me?”

 

“Stiles,” Derek growls, breathless, pressing his face against Stiles’ neck as though that will help. Of course it doesn’t. All he can smell is Stiles’ sweetness, and what his body is offering. 

 

Stiles chuckles, his fingers running lazily down Derek’s neck and then up into his hair.

 

“My heat is the week after next, if you want to make a note. We should go somewhere- it’s nicer than being at home.”

 

Derek lifts his head, still a little groggy. “Where do you want to go?” he asks, willing to take Stiles anywhere in the world.

 

“I don’t know. I’ll think about it,” Stiles says with as much of a shrug as he can manage. “Don’t worry, big guy. You’re not going to need a pre-nup. I won’t bleed you dry.”

 

“I didn’t think that,” Derek says, although it occurs to him that he really should have thought more about the consequences. But obviously there is one overriding consequences he is more focussed on. Not so much Stiles stealing his money.

 

“I just thought it would be nice to have somewhere to chill out when we’re not- y’know,” Stiles smirks, and Derek can’t work out what his insides are doing. Stiles’ legs are still wrapped around him, still holding him close, as though he wouldn’t want to let go even if Derek’s knot wasn’t keeping them in place. 

 

“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” Stiles continues quietly. “I mean- you. I’ve wanted you for a long time. And whilst these aren’t ideal circumstances for getting what I want, I thought you should know this was as good as I imagined.”

 

He laughs, but Derek doesn’t know what to say to that. Of course neither of them could have denied their chemistry and kept a straight face, but neither of them had put it into words before. 

 

And no, this isn’t ideal, this isn’t the way he’d want to start any kind of relationship - called back from the other side of the country to help protect his town, having to father an heir with the guy he has… had feelings for. But maybe they needed something ridiculous and extreme to push them together. 

 

“Can you stay tonight?” Derek asks, because it seems like a given, but it also seems like it’d be polite to ask. He’s nothing if not polite. 

 

Stiles makes a sound, a sigh with a little hum. “I have to be up early for work,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry. Next time. Next time I’ll stay the night. I know it’s important. I know it’s important for you that this isn’t just us fucking- I don’t want that, either. But if I stay tonight then it’s going to be impossible for me to leave early.”

 

Derek has to accept that, even if he doesn’t want to. He’s pretty sure that he won’t be able to keep his hands off of Stiles, that waking up beside someone is going to prove too much of a temptation, and he can’t promise his knot will go down in time-

 

“But you will?”

 

“I will,” Stiles says gently and sincerely, his fingers petting through Derek’s hair. “I will. Maybe the weekend, yeah? We’ll spend the whole weekend in bed.” He smiles brilliantly, and Derek is embarrassed by how much that thought delights him. 

 

“Okay, if you promise,” he grins, nuzzling under Stiles’ jaw again, enjoying the way Stiles tips his head without question, offering his throat. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Derek asks, even though he knows Stiles  _ knows _ . He knows Stiles knows what he’s getting into. 

  
  


Stiles stays long enough to cuddle afterwards, once Derek has pulled out, and Derek is grateful for that, too. Stiles wraps his arms around him, rests his head against Derek’s chest. “I remember when I saw you in your full wolf form,” he whispers. “You were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

 

“I was?” Derek questions, eyebrows raising teasingly. 

 

“Oh, you’re still number one. You know that. You just want me to stroke your ego. You  _ know _ ,” Stiles all but purrs to him. “You know what my body is telling you.”

 

“You’re so cocky,” Derek murmurs. 

 

“You like it,” Stiles replies, yawns, stretches. “You’re into me and my filthy mouth.”

 

The stretch has turned into a roll and Stiles is climbing from the bed, naked and beautiful and as much as Derek misses having him close he’s enjoying getting to look at Stiles, the way he jiggles gentle as he moves to find his clothes from where everything has been thrown in the corner. 

 

“You keep looking at me like that I’m going to get right back into bed with you,” Stiles says,  pulling on his underwear.

 

Derek laughs. “I mean, that’s not really a threat, Stiles,” 

 

“We’ll have plenty of time,” Stiles smiles, his expression bashful almost, continuing to dress. “You were wonderful.”

 

“I’m glad,” Derek is sincere, sitting up. He didn’t want to disappoint. He wants Stiles to like him. To  _ want _ him. To enjoy this. 

 

“Long time coming,” Stiles whispers, quiet enough that Derek might not have heard it if he wasn’t a wolf. 

 

He agrees. Silently, but he agrees.

 

Stiles comes back over to the bed and leans down, kissing Derek gently in a goodbye. “Call me. Text me. About anything, any time,” he says, their lips barely parting as he speaks. “I’ll see you soon, Der.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch me on Discord - Tulikettu#0322


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which no one agrees on anything and it's all going to end badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so much longer than I anticipated. I had exams, my mental health has been an absolute mess, and I'm just getting myself back on track. Luckily I've written maybe three quarters of the fic in total, and chapter four just needs a little tweak and it's good to go, so maybe the weekend, to make up for me being a pile of you know what.

 

Derek stares at the ceiling, his fingers flexing, clenching and unclenching in the sheets. He doesn’t think he’s slept, but he hasn’t turned his head to look at the clock beside his bed. Just watched the passage of light from the crack in the curtain move across the sterile, white surface.

 

Periodically his heart will start beating, hard and fast, stealing his breath from him. 

 

He had sex with Stiles. He’s going to do it again. They’re going to make a child. He’s going to be a father. 

 

It hits him in a rush, in a panic, and he wants to run away. He wants to leave and let Beacon Hills be taken because what the hell does it matter to him anymore? This isn’t his home, it doesn’t have to be his home. He can move on and make something else his. And the people that live here? They aren’t his problem either. Scott wanted this land, Scott can fight for this land. Derek has already relinquished it to him, so why is he even back here? Scott’s always been dragging everyone into battles, he can do it now. Just fight for it. 

 

Wolves taking over new territory is hardly a new idea. Other wolves having to move out or just submit to the presence of a different ruling pack- it’s happened countless times, all over the country. Why is this his problem? And more importantly, why is he bringing a child into this problem?

 

The panic will subside, then. And he’ll be soothed by his idea for action, to tell everyone where to shove it. And then the guilt will creep in. 

 

What would Talia say to him? What would Laura say? This was Hale land, and he was the last one here to claim it. And he was going to refuse? To leave it to the hands of gods only knew who. His mother loved this town and the people in it, had done all she could to keep them safe, for her son to turn around and walk away. She would be so disappointed in him. As would his father. 

 

And Stiles- Stiles lives here. Stiles and his father and other people who aren’t wolves and will be dragged into an unnecessary fight because they’re a ‘pack’ even if it isn’t in their blood. So what would become of Stiles? An omega mostly-human with a mouth that has no filter and sass that is off the charts. And he isn’t going to leave. He’s willing to have a child for the sake of this town. 

 

A child that will be Derek’s. 

 

The panic starts again.

  
  


Once seven am rolls around there’s no point in laying in bed anymore. Derek gets up and showers in the futile hope that it will make him feel better. It doesn’t. He feels like a claggy mix of hungover and drunk. 

 

He goes back to the room and strips the sheets off of the bed so that housekeeping knows he wants new ones. And the duvet cover, for that matter. Maybe he could just change rooms? That does seem a little excessive, and a little rude if Stiles comes over again and finds he’s moved. 

 

Opening the windows will have to suffice to air out the smell of their coupling. He wonders if housekeeping will know. He wonders if any of them can smell Stiles, too. Or himself, for that matter. It’s not a shabby motel, they might not approve of one of their guests bringing men back to fuck. Which means it’s probably a good idea that they do go away for Stiles’ heat. There are places that cater to such things, if you know what to ask for. Somewhere mated couples go to get away from their families, to- to make pups. 

 

Derek feels the warm-chill shiver run through him that resembles a wave of nausea. He shouldn’t really be feeling that about his unborn child. And it’s not that. It’s the circumstances. It’s bringing a baby into the world to use as a bartering piece. A placeholder. When Derek is gone their child will be the custodian of Hale land, and all of this shit will fall on their shoulders. 

 

He is a better man than that. 

 

At eight o’clock Derek is heading for the police station. He can’t go the whole day with this weight in his chest, and Stiles should know sooner rather than later. 

 

Walking through the door, Stiles is leant against the front desk right in front of him, as though he were waiting for Derek to arrive. He’s reading something, a cup of coffee held slightly aloft in the other hand, too distracted by the words to drink. Derek’s breath catches, and of course Stiles looks up. There’s a tiny curve of a smile on his lips (lips that Derek was kissing greedily not twelve hours before) but it fades, and Stiles is looking at him as though reading him like the book in his hand. It makes Derek unnerved. He’s too tired, the fear is gripping his chest, and what little cognitive power he has left is focussed on Stiles’ soft curves, the way his hip is tipped just slightly where he leans, the way his thighs fit his pants and the tiny press of his belly against his waistband. 

 

“You’ve changed your mind,” Stiles says. It isn’t a question. He looks disappointed. In Derek.

 

“I don’t know,” Derek admits, frowning. “I don’t know.”

 

He expects Stiles to argue, because that is what Stiles does, so he’s even more thrown when he just gets a shrug in return. 

 

“Fine, let me know if you change it back. We don’t have long.”

 

“Do you not want- you don’t want to?”

 

Stiles straightens up and narrows his eyes, and when he speaks his voice is low and a few degrees cooler than before. “Don’t turn this around on me, Derek. Don’t try and make me your scapegoat because you can’t deal with...whatever this is.” There’s a brief hand gesture between the two of them. This. Them. 

 

“I just- Stiles, I don’t belong here,” Derek replies, hating how pathetic he sounds, like he’s whining to his mom about some chore he doesn’t want to do. “This place- this town is poison. I hate it.”

 

“Okay, first-” Stiles pointedly holds up a finger and stands properly, pushing himself off of the desk and bringing himself fractionally closer to Derek. “You do belong here. This is <i>your</i> land-”

 

“It’s Scott’s land.”

 

“It’s _yours_. Let’s not fuck around. Whatever little handshake you and Scott made up, it’s your land. If it was Scott’s we wouldn’t be in this mess. Secondly-” a second finger joins the first. “You have the option to put your baby in me and leave if you don’t want to be here.”

 

“I don’t want to leave you,” Derek protests. “I don’t- I want to be here with you and our kid-”

 

Stiles shrugs his shoulders again. “So stay.”

 

“Come with me-” Derek says wildly. “We can leave. We can live somewhere else.”

 

Stiles’ frown deepens. “Don’t be dumb,” he replies, though his voice is soft. “I can’t go. Poison or not, this is home.”

 

“You deserve better.”

 

“Come back and see me when you’ve made up your mind. If it’s a ‘no’ then we’re going to need a new plan, so don’t take too long. And my heat-” he let’s that last bit hang. 

 

“Stiles-”

 

“We’re done now, Derek. I need to get back to work.”

 

Derek doesn’t know what to do or say. He isn’t prepared for this conversation to go this way. He wasn’t prepared for this conversation at all.

  
  


He does as he’s ask and leaves, though he doesn't really know what to do with himself. He has to make a decision, because either way things have to start coming together.

 

Maybe he should see Deaton. That’s always his go to and he wonders if he should feel bad about that. But Deaton always offers him good advice, and that’s exactly what he needs. 

 

Of course Scott is at the clinic when Derek gets there, looking up from where he’s checking the daily schedule of patients and frowning. 

 

“We’re not open yet,” he says.

 

“Well, I don’t have a pet,” Derek replies coldly. Annoying Scott would almost be enough to make his choice for him. “Deaton in?”

 

“You need an appointment,” Scott replies. 

 

“Well, you’re not open yet, so I’m sure he’s not busy,” Derek retorts, moving around Scott to head to Deaton’s room. 

 

Scott doesn’t say anything to stop him, because he hasn’t got anything he can say. 

 

Deaton looks up and doesn’t seem surprised to see Derek there. “Good morning.”

 

“Hi,” Derek says, feeling bad for coming here again with nothing but problems. “How are things?” he tries. 

 

“Fine, fine. What can I do for you? I only have ten minutes until my first client.”

 

“Oh, yeah. It might not take long. I mean- I just need to know- I don’t know if I’m making the right choice.”

 

“You might want to be a little more specific.”

 

“I don’t know if I should be- I don’t know if I should be involved. I don’t know if I should be- having a child with Stiles.”

 

“Have you spoken to Stiles about this?” Deaton asks. Derek envies how he does everything so casually, as though nothing phases him. 

 

“I might have implied something, yeah. He just- told me I needed to decide soon.” That was the long and short of it, and the shrug he got from the doctor told him that that was indeed the bottom line. “Can’t I just stay here whilst they’re staking the place out, do some kind of work on the house, make it look like I’m going to be here permanently?”

 

“Your mother was married by the time she was your age. And she was expecting Laura.”

 

That isn’t really what Derek was anticipating as an answer. “Maybe I’m just slow to mature.”

 

“Maybe you need to look like you’re doing more than fixing the place up. Maybe you need to look like you’re settling down.”

 

“So pretend to be...engaged. Or married. Or mated?”

 

“I suppose. If that’s what you want. If you’re really set on not staying here. I don’t know if the long term solution is faking it, but I can’t make you do anything.”

 

But it worked. It was a much easier solution, it didn’t involve anyone having pups for the sake of a convincing lie. He can pretend he has a mate somewhere and is setting up home for them. And if they came around again, Derek can just do the same thing, say the last one didn’t work out.

 

It was a great idea! 

 

“I’d advise you to think about this a little more, Derek. I think you need to consider the long term-” Deaton says, seeing the spark of enthusiasm returning and knowing exactly what is going through Derek’s mind.

 

The long term is not having a child. And he is all for that. Not that he doesn’t want them, but these are not the circumstances in which he wants to start a family. 

 

“I’ll think about it,” he nods, though his tone is anything but suggestive of that. He’s made his mind up and they both know it. 

 

Derek would still very much like the satisfaction of pissing Scott off, and knowing he was so riled up about him and Stiles _has_  been gratifying, but he doesn’t have to know Derek’s plan yet. He can sit there squirming, wondering, until everything is over. 

 

Derek passes him on the way out, and gives him a cheery wave, which is unsurprisingly not returned. 

 

Stiles is obviously the first person he’ll ask to fake a relationship with him. He’s single, and an omega, they have some pre-existing chemistry, it’s believable. It’s perfect. And as Stiles is willing to have a baby with him he must be willing to fake being his mate. That’s a hundred times easier that searching for someone unconnected to his pack, who wouldn’t have all the obvious knowledge of their ins and outs, or the personal connections. Derek can hold Stiles’ hand, he can kiss Stiles and it’ll be believable. 

 

Back at his hotel room he strips down and climbs into the bed, his body finally ready for sleep. Yes, please. His mind is completely at ease, finally, and Derek is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

 

He’s surprised to find that it’s getting dark out when he wakes up. And he’s hungry. And more surprisingly, he’s pressed his face into the pillow beside him. It smells of Stiles. He hadn’t noticed last night. But he hadn’t really been moving around much then, just laying on his back, staring at the ceiling.  _ Now _ though, now he’s pressed into the pillow like he needs it to live, inhaling what is left of Stiles’ scent and oh, he’s rock hard. 

 

Derek isn’t one to wake up in this kind of state, especially not when he’s alone. Of course it’s just the scent of Stiles, of an omega, doing this to him. And maybe a memory of what they’d done last night that was helping a bit. It had been a long time since there had been anyone before Stiles. 

 

Derek grunts and presses his hand against himself. Again this isn’t something he does a lot. His libido isn’t low, but he just...doesn’t. 

 

The sun is going down, though, and he hasn’t got any other plans for the evening. Tomorrow he’ll go and talk to Stiles.

 

He grips himself slightly harder and rolls onto his stomach, rocking his hips and pushing his cock into his hand. It’s not as good as Stiles. His hand is nowhere near what Stiles’ body felt like. There isn’t the slickness, for one thing. How easily his omega had gotten wet for him. And the sweet noises he’d made even before Derek was inside him. 

 

Derek’s other fingers twist in his sheets, and he rocks forward,increasing the pressure of his fingers in a hopeless attempt to mimic the clench of Stiles’ muscles.

 

The scent on his pillow helps a little, but he misses the noises, the warmth and softness of Stiles’ body, how he had been so slick, had opened so easily around Derek’s cock. 

 

Derek groans at that. That’s helping a lot. His erection gives a gentle throb, and there’s an ache in the base where his knot should form. He’s never knotted his own hand, so he doesn’t think it’s go that far, but he’s still greedily inhaling Stile’s scent, and that is doing wonders.

 

Derek doesn’t jerk off, but he’s going for it now like he’s a teenager. His hand stays still and his hips move, thrusting into his palm. 

 

“Shit, shit-” it’s not enough. He’s been ruined by Stiles’ body, and now Derek is almost delirious with his want. He’s on edge but it isn’t- fuck. His free hand grapples with his bedside table, where there is lotion, not lube because Derek Hale doesn’t jerk off unless, apparently, he can smell the omega he tried to breed on this bed the night before. Lotion will work, though. Lotion is fine. 

 

He squirts a large amount into his palm, more than most people would think was reasonable, but that’s exactly what he wants; that sudden wetness, the slickness on his palm and the way his cock slides through it. That’s  _ exactly _ it. Derek moans out, surprised and helpless with the sudden wash of pleasure. His hips roll forward easily, quickly, fucking his palm, his face pressed into the pillow, inhaling heavily.    
  
“Yes, yes, yes, Stiles-” he panted, aching all over, the base of his cock throbbing. He isn’t going to get that sweet tug of his knot catching, but he doesn’t really need it, because moments later Derek is crying out and coming over his fist and the covers, so hard he has to press his face harder into the pillow to stifle the noises that he’s sure are loud enough for the neighbours to hear. 

 

Oh God. This is- 

 

Derek pants, lowering himself down onto the bed, unable to be too concerned about the mess he’s now making. The literal mess. The metaphorical, emotional mess is a whole other thing.

 

This is absolutely going to come back and bite him in the ass. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be gentle. I know it's not my best work.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all about Stiles. 
> 
> Stiles discovers he's an omega, has his first heat, and then shit goes up and down like a rollercoaster. Poor Stiles. 
> 
> Chapter features Stiles and OMC. Not in great detail, but the implications are there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So to make up for being awful and not updating for a while, here's Chapter 4! Thank you for all of your comments on the last chapter, I'm sorry the boys aren't getting themselves together any time soon. 
> 
> Also, whilst I was editing this chapter I came across this article https://www.charlotteobserver.com/latest-news/article228875624.html about a guy wanting to have a baby, and it kind of gave me some Sterek feels. Beware, it is feels.

 

Stiles is distracted. And it’s annoying. He partly blames it on coming off of his birth control, because he’s been on it for so long, and now he has to deal with all of these hormones-

 

Maybe Derek really will change his mind, and then he can start them again before his heat. It’ll make it a lot more manageable.

 

Derek.

 

Derek bloody Hale.

  
  
  


They’d received a visit from the other pack’s emissary, and that was when this had all started. Maybe a fortnight ago, give or take. The emissary had been a stringy young man by the name of Lucan, according to Scott, from whom the whole encounter was related. A stringy young man with dark red hair and a patch of white above one temple that seemed rather premature.

 

He’d come to Deaton and asked to speak with Derek. Asked in a way that implied he already knew the alpha’s whereabouts and just wanted it confirmed.

 

“He’s out of town right now. For work,” Deaton had replied.

 

“Do  you know when he will be back?”

 

“I can give him a call. What is this regarding?”

 

“We want this land.” The reply was blunt.

 

Scott growled. And from how he told it, Lucan's eyes had flashed, and for a moment he hadn’t looked human.

 

“The land is mine,” Scott had replied. “It isn’t open for anyone.”

 

The emissary sneered at him. “You’re not a Hale, even if you have one in your bed. This is Hale land.”

 

“Derek gave it to me.”

 

“You’re a fool. Unless you  killed him, it’s his land. It is Hale land.”

 

(Stiles can just imagine how pissed off Scott had been at that constant repetition, considering how angry he still was as he recounted the scene.)

 

“If he does not live here now then it is free land.”

 

“Malia lives here. She’s a Hale,” Scott snapped triumphantly.

 

“She isn’t the child of the alpha. She means nothing.” Tactful, charming man.

 

“As I said-” Deaton had stepped in then, calmly putting himself between Scott and the emissary (“ -who is some kind of...something, like a witch or something, bro-” Scott exclaimed) and held up his hands. “Derek is away for work. Scott is caretaking in his place. I can get him back here if it is a concern.”

 

“Him, his mate, his heir? There is someone to hold the Hale land after him, isn’t there?” Again asked as though Lucan already knew the answer. No mate. No children.

 

“Everything will be in order when you and your alpha return. You’ll find this land very much spoken for, and its proprietor here to greet you.”

  
  


Deaton had called them all to a meeting that night to discuss what had gone on. This new development. He said he had called Derek already, asked him to come back. But then they had to deal with all of the...finer details. Derek would need an heir.

  
  
  


Stiles’ condition had come about two years prior. He had kind of worked out the symptoms himself after a while, but since his main source of reliable first-hand wolfy knowledge had bailed there was no one to confirm it or comfort him as said symptoms began to grow and increase in intensity.

 

The waves of hot flushes, his increasing libido, the change in his body shape. It was all gradual at first. And at first the increasing libido wasn’t really a problem. He could easily deal with that, or go and find someone to help him. And those someone’s just seemed to increasingly be men, which made more sense once Stiles pieced together his condition and what it was that his body wanted.

 

But that was later.

 

The change in his body had displeased him. He had worked so hard to lose his puppy fat, to tone up, build muscle. He managed at least two summers with some nice abs before they started to soften again, his hips widening, his thighs getting thicker-

 

Diet and exercise weren’t helping, and paired with the hot flushes he hadn’t known what was happening. The hospital didn’t know, couldn’t pin it down, only really noting that his estrogen levels were a little higher than normal, perhaps.

 

It came in a cycle, Stiles noticed. The flushes and the hormones peaked together, then ebbed. A cycle, each month.

 

And that’s when Stiles worked it all out.

 

His hand had been sliding up and down his dick, legs spread invitingly for a person who wasn’t there. Not tonight. But  _ God _ Stiles needed to be filled. He ached, his body too warm, skin too sensitive, and he knew all he needed was that fullness.

 

His free hand had slid down between his legs with every intention of teasing himself to his first orgasm, and then stretching himself out for something slower and more indulgent.

 

One finger teased over his hole and he froze as he met the slickness around his rim.

 

Stiles knew he should be worried, because that wasn’t normal. But there was a calmness in the back of his mind that let him press his finger against his entrance, feeling it almost immediately covered in slick.

 

He was wet. He was  _ so _ wet, and the thought, the knowledge turned him on even more.

 

His finger slid deeper, and Stiles almost sobbed at the sweetness and the ease. He could push all the way in, and he wanted more. His second finger gave a stretch that made his toes curl as it pressed in beside the first and, fuck it, this was happening, he’d worry about what it meant after.

 

His fingers pumped in and out, and his other hand stroked his cock rapidly. It took barely any time at all for his orgasm to race through him, and goddamn there was something about feeling that rush of wetness against his own fingers from the slick between his legs that turned him on even more.

 

In the quest to sate himself, Stiles had accumulated a fine selection of dildos in various sizes and shades of realism. And he wasted no time after that first orgasm in finding his thickest, most realistic one. Eight inches. Uncut.

 

The stretch as the head opened him up was agonisingly good. Stiles was as vocal in bed as he was out of it, but this time there was nothing but silent ecstacy. The slick sound of his body made his toes curl again, and Stiles thrust in hard and fast, imagining he had a lover taking him, filling him-

 

His hole clenched around the toy as he came again and then, arching his back so that the thick head rubbed against his prostate, again.

 

He had no idea how he was going to explain this to the next man he brought back to his bed. But he also really needed to work out what was going on.

 

At least he had some idea to bring to Deaton.

  
  


Deaton had been amused. Not in a way that said he didn’t believe Stiles, but almost as though he had won a bet with someone.

 

“It is very possible you’re an omega, yes. It’s obviously not a common manifestation. You’re displaying all the right symptoms, though, as you assumed. I’ll need to call a colleague of mine. She is a little more experienced in this area. She has a more diverse pack she works with. Do you know what you’re expecting? When the time comes?”

 

“Uh-”

 

“Your heats are going to be intense. There are medications-” Deaton had begun texting “-that will make it manageable and also stop you from getting pregnant. I’ll make sure my colleague gets here as a matter of urgency. We don’t know when it is coming.”

 

Stiles thought it best to wait before he told any of the others (and to be honest, he was still reeling over the possibility of getting pregnant), though he suspected they had to know. He couldn’t smell himself, but he knew his scent would have changed. And it would kind of explain why the betas had been treating him with a little more care of late. And Scott? Scott was constantly awkward. But Stiles didn’t think it was because Scott was having a sexuality crisis, there was just something to it.

 

Deaton’s colleague was coming from San Francisco, and to her credit she really was quick, arriving two days later, accompanied by one of her pack.

 

“Stiles, I’m Sara. This is Thomas. He’s one of our high ranking betas.”

 

Stiles could smell that, and it surprised him. Not only that, but Stiles wanted him, right here, right now. He was tall, solid, his skin the colour of milk chocolate and his hair bleached white. The contrast made Stiles hungry.

 

“You’re not far from your heat-” he said with a dirty smirk that went right between Stiles’ legs. And that must have been noticeable because that gorgeous smirk grew, and his already dark eyes seemed to grow darker still. “Luckily we brought a few months worth of meds for you.”

 

“Heat cycles are about three months,” Sara had said as she nudged her beta away to attempt to diffuse the tension building between them. Then, on second thoughts, she asked him to wait out the back.

 

Stiles’ knees went a little weak when Thomas threw him a wink on his way out, and it took every bit of restraint in his possession to not follow.

 

Sara explained his cycle to him, the monthly peaks in his libido, and the several days of his heat that would come every three months, when he would need a partner. Or at least would  _ prefer _ a partner.

 

“Heats are easier to go through with someone else. You’ll be calmer. It won’t be as stressful. Your body wants to get pregnant, another person's semen will trick it into thinking you’re able to conceive. Which you are, I must stress. You need to be careful. Of course, should you choose a mate and wish to have pups-”

 

“I’m not a wolf,” Stiles interjects.

 

“No, but you’re not a normal human. These pills will make it easier. They’re like the birth control for human females. You might also find there’s some… mood swings that follow the time you don’t conceive. Some of our omegas find it a little hard. But keep taking them. Start now. I can’t promise it’ll help a huge amount with this first heat, but I’m going to leave Thomas here to help you.”

 

Stiles looked up so quickly he jarred his neck. “For my heat?”

 

“Yes. He’ll know how to take care of you. You might want to inform people, and you might want to take some time off work-”

 

She left him several double sided A4 sheets that may as well have been titled ‘So, You’re An Omega Now’ and gave another copy to Deaton, as well as six months worth of pills.

 

And she left Thomas.

 

Deaton was not a subtle man. He was a good man, and that made up for it.

 

“You should take Thomas to his hotel. Let him know where everything is in town,” he said, putting Stiles’ pills in a bag, all but one box. He passed Stiles a bottle of water. It went unsaid. Stiles took one.

 

Then he went outside to meet Thomas.

 

It was the first time Stiles had been with someone else since his body had reached this point, and every little thing that had worried him was soothed away by warm hands and an equally warm mouth that moved over every new curve and sank into softness accompanied by words of praise that felt too immense for him.

 

Stiles felt fucking perfect. He basked in every word, flushed with pleasure as Thomas whispered about how wet he was, how good he was, how amazing his body was.

 

He didn’t stretch Stiles open with his fingers, just eased his cock in slowly, greedy for the moans it pulled from Stiles.

 

He came before Thomas had even started a real rhythm.

 

“I can’t knot you as well as an alpha, but it’ll be good,” Thomas had promised, teeth grazing Stiles’ neck.

 

Knotting. Stiles hadn’t even thought about that.

 

He felt it, though. When the base of Thomas’ cock started to swell, started to catch a little as he thrust in.

 

“It’ll be bigger when you’re in heat.” Another promise. Stiles couldn’t imagine anything better.

 

Six days later it came. Stiles had spent the intervening week explaining his new predicament with varying degrees of successful reception. His dad had been very uneasy, even after reading all of the fact sheets, but Stiles had assured him he was on his meds, and he wouldn't forget them.

 

Thomas came over for dinner. That helped a lot. He was charming, and polite, and the Sheriff didn’t mind putting Stiles in his safe hands for a little while.

 

Scott didn’t take the news well, nor did he like Thomas, despite being told multiple times that he’d be on his way once Stiles was okay. This wasn’t permanent, they weren’t mates. But Scott was unerringly moody.

 

The others, though, seemed to take the news in the stride, like one of the usual odd occurrences that rose up in their lives. And most of them really liked Thomas, who again had to remind them that this wasn’t a permanent placement, he  _ was _ going to have to go back to his pack in California-

 

Stiles had felt his heat ramping up during the afternoon, different to every other time, all the little flushes, hints, the ache low in his body. It was going to happen, and he was nervous, but he could deal with it. He had the means to help him deal with it-

 

He’d told his dad, told the others he wouldn’t be around for a few days, then driven to Thomas’ hotel with an itch under his skin. The beta had opened the door to him with a smile on his face, and said nothing as he’d lead Stiles in, taken him to his bed for the next few days.

  
  


It wasn’t too difficult to cope with his new life. His ‘condition’, as Scott continues to refer to it as. The tablets help. He doesn’t feel like he’s going crazy, and now he kind of embraces his body. His wetness. Stiles really likes it. And he really likes the stretch of being knotted and being filled, and he does blame it on his hormones, because he’s very, very gay now.

 

He tells boys he already prepped himself if someone picks him up in a club or bar, though he does love the times he finds a man who knows just what he is. The way they breathe him in and tell him what they want. They aren’t alphas, they don’t knot him like they should. But it’s good. So good.

 

Sara was right, thought. There’s something after the heats, when his body should be making a baby but isn’t, when something feels off. He doesn’t feel right. He - Stiles - he wants to have a baby. And it’s normal. He’s on forums, he talks to other omegas, they all feel the same.

 

Stiles wants a baby. But he doesn’t want a mate, he doesn’t want an alpha. The heats he doesn’t spend with Thomas he spends with alphas he meets on forums.

 

(The first time he feels an alpha’s knot properly catch he comes immediately. And then comes again when he feels how stretched he is.)

 

But alphas are so possessive. They always want him to stay with them, and quit his job, and let them breed him. And he doesn’t want that. He just wants to quell the ache, he just wants a baby.

 

So when Deaton puts his suggestion forward, when he tells him what might have to happen, Stiles doesn’t really need to think about it. It’s Derek. And of everyone he knows or has ever known, Derek would be an amazing dad.

 

The fact that Derek seems to have changed his mind now is kind of painful. Stiles doesn’t really want to linger on it, but it had seemed like the perfect solution. And yes, he can have a baby with anyone, but then he would be tied to that alpha.

 

He’s in a foul mood.

 

And he needs to know what Derek has decided, because he needs to take his pills again.

  
  


The man in question turns up the following morning looking bright and happy, which is the exact opposite of how Stiles feels.

 

“Hey. I won’t keep you,” Derek says, even as Stiles is willing him to burst into flames. Or something. “Do you want to have lunch? Or dinner?”

 

“Are you going to tell me what you’ve decided?” Stiles asks.

 

“I think we should wait to talk about it,” Derek replies, some of his chipperness fading.

 

“Fine. Lunch time. Half twelve,” Stiles says. “I’m on a tight schedule.”

 

“Sure. Sure, I’ll be here,” Derek frowns, his posture slumping. “Have a good morning.”

 

Stiles doesn’t.

 

His dad makes a few comments, directing them his way, regarding his rather morose expression, but stops when Stiles feels the urge to cry well up in him as though a dam has been broken. Then he’s left alone until lunch, gloomily typing up reports and trying not to think about anything.

 

Derek is outside at half past twelve, leaning on the front of his car. His smile isn’t as bright as it had been earlier, and Stiles is partly certain his own face has something to do with that.

 

“Where would you like to go?” Derek asks gently, carefully.

 

“I dunno. There’s pizza up the road. We can walk,” Stiles replies, not particularly keen on driving too far and relying on Derek to get back.

 

“Okay. Sure,” Derek nods.

 

They walk in silence. Silence has never been common between them, and when it is it isn’t awkward. This is awkward. And it’s hard to believe they had sex the night before last. Really good sex.

 

And the problem remains that even if Stiles is pissed off with Derek, he still thinks he’s hot. He still gets this weird flutter in his chest like he did as a teenager.

 

Derek holds the door open for him, and the waitress smiles cheerily at them both as she shows them to a table.

 

“Maybe you should just tell me before we order-” Stiles says quietly once they are alone with their menus.

 

“Are you sure you don’t-”

 

“I’ve waited long enough, Derek. Put me out of my misery.”

 

Derek frowns as him, as though surprised, and there’s a nanosecond of time when Stiles wants to punch that beautiful face- like Derek doesn’t know this is paining him. Really?

 

“I spoke to Deaton, and I don’t think we should have a child together,” Derek starts slowly.

 

“Uh-huh-” Stiles puts down his menu. “Okay. And what did Deaton say?”

 

“He didn’t- well, he suggested something else that I think will work better for us.”

 

“Right,” Stiles nods. “And what is that?”

 

“We just fake being in a relationship. We just pretend that you and I are together and settling down. We don’t have to have pups. You’re an omega. We get on well. I think it would be easy for us to convince strangers. And then there’s no-”

 

“No commitment?” Stiles interrupts testily. Because that’s exactly what Derek is saying. “I wasn’t going to expect you to be part of this. I told you that-” He sounds...well, he hates how miserable and needy he sounds.

 

“Stiles- I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave you.”

 

“That isn’t my problem,” Stiles snaps, then hates himself for that. He covers his face with his hands and mumbles an apology. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

 

Derek is looking at him. He can feel the weight of his gaze and he knows the whole thing is going to be called off. No baby, no fake relationship, nothing. The whole town is going to be in the shit all because of him.

 

“It’s because I haven’t taken my pill. My hormones are all over the place. I’m sorry.”

 

“Is that really it?” Derek asks quietly. “You should tell me, Stiles. Maybe I can help.”

 

“You were going to,” Stiles says with a little more restraint than before. “I want a baby.” Derek blinks at him, and Stiles is pretty sure he sees panic there. “But it’s not going to be with you, is it? So-” So what now? Stiles runs his fingers through his hair. “Tell me again about our fake relationship?”

 

Derek explains; the two of them are a couple, they live here, they’ve been in love for however many plausible years, and now Stiles is an omega, so they’re rebuilding Derek’s house for them to start a family in…

 

“You want to rebuild the house?” Stiles asks, because that’s the biggest lie so far.

 

“No, but we can just pretend.”

 

“Yeah, we’re already pretending. But they’re going to want more than just our word,” Stiles says. Because there is no solid proof to backup any of this up, and he knows if the roles were flipped they would be looking deep into every claim.

 

“Well, what do you-” their waitress comes back, and Derek gestures for Stiles to order.

 

Pepperoni and pineapple.

 

Derek orders a meat feast.

 

They get back to it.

 

“What do you suggest?” Derek asks.

 

“We can start building something somewhere else, on your land. Map out a house, pretend we’re laying foundations. I can fake some order forms for supplies. We can make it look like we’re building ourselves a new home. It won’t take long to put all that together-”

 

“Okay,” Derek says slowly. He doesn’t look opposed to the idea.

 

“And I want an engagement ring,” Stiles says with a grin. It’s genuine.

 

Derek raises his eyebrows. “You’re high maintenance.”

 

“I’m your mate. So put a ring on it.”

 

To his credit, Derek grins, though it’s probably out of relief that Stiles’ mood has swung slightly more favourably.

 

“I’ll see what I can do. But we’re not going on vacation until the house is finished.”

 

It’s suddenly easy again, and Stiles is going to be thankful to get back on his pill. Even out the mess in his brain.

 

“We should probably just- be around each other more. And maybe you should move into the hotel with me.”

 

“Uh- when they get here, sure,” Stiles starts, baulking at that sudden new level of commitment.

 

“I kind of think we need to start now. You need to smell like me. We need to smell like  _ us _ . They’ll know if we haven’t been…”

 

“Maybe we’re waiting until we’re married,” Stiles says. Not that the thought of living with Derek is horrible, but he doesn’t know if it’s something he’s ready for. And whether he likes it or not, his heat is coming up.

 

“That- that isn’t really how wolves work. Especially since I’m an alpha and you’re an omega. I wouldn’t want you sleeping anywhere else, or risking another wolf finding you. It’s instinct.”

 

“And yet you seem perfectly fine whilst this is under the umbrella of fake,” Stiles frowns. “If it’s instinct then surely you’d want that anyway? We’ve had sex. You knotted me. I’m pretty sure that qualified, no? So it can’t be instinct. Unless you’re just desperate to get me back into bed.”

 

Derek looks at him across the table, his expression unreadable. “It’s complicated,” he starts as they food is put down in front of them.

 

“So...you do feel that? Do you?”

 

“What can I do, Stiles? It’s not like you’re just some random omega, either. I cared about you before this and now it’s just- I want to know you’re safe-”

 

“I was safe all the time you were on the opposite side of the country,” Stiles snaps, biting into his pizza because he’s hungry despite also being pissed off again. “I’ll come and stay with you after my heat,” he says slowly. “I think that’s for the best.”

 

“What are you going to do during your heat?”

 

“I don’t know,” Stiles replies honestly. “I just think it’s best we don’t spend it together.”

 

“Why?”

 

Stiles is surprised that Derek seems genuinely put out by this.

 

“I think it will complicate things. I mean- I was going to be having your baby. And now I’m not. So-”

 

He’s surprised again when Derek’s hand reaches out and touches his own.

 

“I’m sorry,” Derek says with sincerity.

 

“I know you are. It’s okay,” Stiles nods, turning his hand over so that they’re palm to palm. He can’t force Derek to have a baby with him. He can’t help what Derek wants. He wants to be involved with his baby, but he doesn’t want to be involved with Stiles. The maths is easy. “You can’t change how you feel.”

 

Derek smiles, but it’s a sad smile.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter isn't typed up yet, but there'll be more soon! Just when your frustration at them has abated, it'll be back in full force. 
> 
> Love always.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek is a ballin' wolf.
> 
> But money can't buy those mad seductive skills. 
> 
> If only Stiles could decide if it's working or not.

Derek doesn’t really know how the conversation went. He doesn’t really know if they’ve gotten anywhere and agreed on anything. And he’s pretty sure Stiles’ heart is a little bit broken about their baby.

 

Fuck. He can’t think of it like that. It was never something that existed, it isn’t something to feel sad about.

 

But there are other things he still has to do. Like make a realistic start on breaking ground on the house he’s going to be building for the family he doesn’t have.

 

Derek goes to the bank first. He has things he needs to check on, things he needs to deal with. 

 

There’s a map of his family land in some of the security boxes in storage. He asks for a copy to be made. He needs to work out where the best, most realistic place for a family home is. Far enough from the shell of the old house. Closer to the road. Easily accessible.

 

Derek picks up one last thing before he goes. Something he hopes will makes this whole thing come together. 

  
  
  


“Do you want to have dinner?”

 

Stiles is looking up at him from his desk, confused and apparently a little bit annoyed. It’s only been two hours since they got back from lunch.

 

“Uh. I suppose?” 

 

“Okay. I’ll take you for dinner.”

 

“Is this part of our- you know? Relationship?” Stiles says it like it’s a dirty word, and Derek is almost surprised he doesn’t glance around in case someone overheard. 

 

“I mean, yeah, I guess,” Derek shrugs. “It won’t hurt. We should get used to coupley things.”

 

Stiles looks absolutely unconvinced. “Uh-huh.”

 

Derek wasn’t expecting wild enthusiasm, but he’s a little put out by Stiles’ reaction.

 

Then again they didn’t have the best time earlier. And he’s interrupting Stiles at work.

 

Again.

 

“I’ll come to your hotel room when I’m done here,” Stiles says gently. “We can make plans then.”

 

“Okay.” Derek picks up the polite dismissal. “I’ll see you later.”

  
  


He knows Stiles will come around to the idea. That he’ll feel better about it when the...the disappointment of Derek changing his mind has waned. Derek doesn’t really understand. He has never really had to understand. Any omegas he’d been with before were just in need of an alpha to fuck them and knot them, none of them had ever opened up expressly about wanting children. But then again, he’d never known any of them the way he knows Stiles. 

 

It’s certainly not the first time he’s felt like a bad Alpha. A bad wolf. Or wished he had someone to ask about it all that isn’t Deaton.

 

At least he has time to go through some of the papers and plans he took from the bank. He showers again, to be polite, then pulls on some sweats to do some work before Stiles arrives. He has hours, he’ll get changed in a bit.

 

Except of course that time runs away with him. He goes from picking a rough plot of land that seems to be in approximately the right place, to shopping for standard blueprints, to looking at the cables and pipes that can be brought in.

 

He has model homes up on his screen when he hears a knock at the door.

 

Derek’s eyes drop to the clock on his screen.

 

“Fuck. Fuck,” he curses as he stands, looking down at himself, then around for his clothes. “Fuck.”

 

Another knock and, oh, it isn’t as though Stiles hasn’t seen him naked before- and it isn’t as though he’s completely naked now.

 

Stiles is looking bored on the threshold of his room, but the appearance of shirtless Derek seems to quell that somewhat. 

 

“I’m so, so sorry, Stiles. I’ll get dressed and be ready in like five minutes-”

 

Stiles is still staring at him. “Don’t worry. I don’t really feel like going out. We can order something in. I’ve had a shitty day.”

 

Derek steps aside to let him in, and Stiles smirks, raising his eyebrows as he passes. 

 

“It is looking up a little bit, though.”

 

“It was my fault in the first place,” Derek says as he closes the door.

 

Stiles says nothing, but he’s made his way over to the computer that Derek left open. Nosy.

 

“I- was distracted,” Derek says, feeling a little nervous as Stiles looks at the house he has been designing. 

 

“Is this the house we’re raising out imaginary family in?” Stiles asks, taking the seat at the desk that Derek had been occupying.

 

Derek comes up behind him, keeping a polite distance as he still hasn’t dressed.

 

“Yeah, I kind of thought we should have something that looks convincing. I can get quotes and things-”

 

Stiles- just smells wonderful. There’s a warmth and a sweetness to his scent. Derek wants to move in closer, but he doesn’t know if he’d be welcome. Stiles’ heat is coming up, it’s probably just that that’s increasing the deliciousness.

 

“It’s lovely,” Stiles says softly, leaning his head back, somehow judging the distance perfectly to rest it against Derek’s chest. He looks up at Derek and smiles.

 

“I decided where on the land, too. Nearer a road, so it’s easier to access-”

 

“You’ve thought of everything.”

 

“It’s a family home, so of course. It’s supposed to be perfect.”

 

Derek is looking down at him, Stiles is looking up. His hair is tickling Derek’s chest.

 

He wonders if maybe they should go back to Plan A. It’s a deep, heavy feeling in his belly. He wants to-

 

“What do you want for dinner?” Derek asks instead, because ‘I’ve changed my mind again, why don’t we have a baby?’ seems a little heartless. And he can’t guarantee that he won’t change it back again. Fuck. 

 

“I haven’t had Thai for a while. Do you fancy that?”

 

Derek shrugs gently, not wanting to dislodge Stiles from his position. “That’s fine.”

 

“Cool.” Stiles sits up straight again, and Derek is bereft of his warmth, watching his guest click around the plan on the page as though he does this all the time.

 

“Which is our bedroom?”

 

Derek smiles, but tries to conceal it as he leans closer, one arm bracketing Stiles in whilst the other takes the mouse and scrolls to the master bedroom on the first floor.

 

“This one, but these are just basic plans, we can tweak them. If you just want a shower in the en suite and not a bath, we can make it a walk in closet.”

 

“Nah, I’d like a bath. I don’t need a walk in-”

 

“We can shrink some rooms, too. Or expand them. I was just playing around.”

 

“How many rooms?”

 

“Four right now. Two en suite and then two other baths.”

 

“Can we get a games room?”

 

Derek tips his head to look down at him. “A games room?”

 

“Yeah. To play games,” Stiles replies with gentle sarcasm.

 

“Why do you need a whole room?”

 

Stiles grins. “Because that’s the dream.”

 

“Hm, I was going to have a movie room. And a home office.”

 

“A movie room?”

  
Stiles turns in the chair and beams up at Derek. It’s supposed to be a fake house, a fake plan for their fake family, but Derek has forgotten that for the moment.

 

“If we have a movie room I can hook my consoles up in there-”

 

“What if I want to watch a movie whilst  you’re playing games?” Derek asks, eyebrows raised.

 

“We compromise, Derek, like all married couples.”

 

Stiles smiles at him sweetly and Derek rolls his eyes. 

 

“We aren’t married yet, so I don’t need to compromise.” Which reminds him-

 

Derek pushes gently away from the chair and goes to his jacket, searching the pockets for the other thing he took from the bank. 

 

“But since we’re on the subject,” Derek starts, then stops, wishing he were wearing more clothes despite the fact his skin suddenly feels too hot.

 

Stiles is looking at him with mild confusion, but waiting patiently for Derek to resume his words. 

 

“You asked for a ring earlier,” Derek continues, pushing himself onwards and forwards so that he is closer to Stiles. In his hands he holds a small box which Stiles is now staring at, eyes fractionally wider. 

 

“Derek?”

 

“So, there are my parents rings. My mom and dads-” like he has to clarify. “We managed to- to save them. And I know they would have wanted one of us to use them for this- so…”

 

He opens the box. There are two rings, silver in colour, one slightly thinner than the other.

 

“They’re white gold, obviously mom couldn’t have silver, but um, but I thought you should have hers and I’ll wear dad’s and-”

 

Derek stops as Stiles stands up, swallowing heavily at the sight of the other man’s flushed cheeks and the shimmer in his eyes.

 

“Stiles?”

 

“You’re amazing. I don’t deserve you,” is all Stiles says before he’s leaning in and pressing his lips to Derek’s. It lingers, it’s more than a little thank you. “I’ll look after it, I promise. I promise, I’ll be so careful,” Stiles breathes out, their lips still brushing as Derek nods.

 

“I know. I think this’ll mean more- I mean, it’ll seem more authentic, won’t it?”

 

And he does trust Stiles. He would (and has) trust him with his life. And really, if he imagined anyone in the world wearing this ring, Stiles fits the picture. Derek has to take a small step back to see what he’s doing, but then he pulls out the slimmer ring from the box and picks up Stiles’ hand, sliding the band onto his ring finger.

 

Derek looks up then, rather surprised when a small, salty tear lands on the back of his hand. His expression is quizzical as Stiles hastily wipes his eyes. 

 

“What’s wrong?” 

 

“It’s- I’m just emotional,” Stiles says, looking at the ring on his finger. “I mean, it’s pretty convincing. You wouldn’t give this ring to just anyone, huh?”

 

Derek blinks at him, lost for words until Stiles’ gaze lifts again to meet his.

 

“No,” he replies quietly. “I wouldn’t give it to just anyone.”

 

There’s another pause, Stiles’ expression is so serious that Derek thinks this is about to take a dramatic U turn towards a far more awkward place.

 

But then Stiles’ lips are on his again, soft like before, but his body is moving closer. His hands smooth up Derek’s bare arms, cupping the sides of his neck as he moves in.

 

Derek is surprised but not unhappy with this turn of events, and his arms wind around Stiles’ waist, ring box still clenched in his hand, remaining ring still nestled in the velvet.

 

He parts his lips and Stiles doesn’t hesitate to press forward, tongue sliding in against Derek’s and drawing moans from both of them.

  
  


Derek pulls Stiles back towards the bed, turning them so that the smaller man falls down onto the mattress. And he doesn’t seem at all upset by this. In fact, he’s smirking, eyes shining 

 

Derek puts the ring box - and his father’s ring - onto the bedside table just before Stiles’ hands are moving over the thin material of his pajama bottoms. 

 

There is a change in Stiles’ scent, and Derek knows it complements the gentle throbbing between his own legs. 

 

Stiles leans back on the bed with a coy little smile, shifting his legs so that they bracket in Derek’s standing above him. His weight balances on one arm, body tipped slightly to the side, and he begins to unbutton his shirt. 

 

And damn, if that isn’t one of the sexiest things Derek has ever seen.

 

“You prefer watching to joining in?” Stiles teases, shirt falling aside to reveal the white vest he has beneath which, again, is incredibly sexy. “I can imagine you’d be a rather intense voyeur with eyes like those.”

 

“If I help I’m just gonna rip it from your body, and I think you need that for work, huh?” Derek replies, cocking an eyebrow and smirking.

 

Stiles laughs softly, then sits up to shrug out of his shirt, throwing it across the room. Then his hands start on his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them.

 

Derek licks his lips.

 

“Look at you. You look like you’ve never seen an omega before,” Stiles teases, arching his back in a singully erotic way so that he can slide his pants off.

 

“None that have offered themselves to me quite so boldly,” Derek replies as he plucks at the fabric at his own waistband. His eyes move over Stiles’ body, a hand moving to caress the outline of his own cock through the bottoms as it hardens.

 

There’s a sudden spike in the sweet smell that surrounds Stiles, and Derek smirks again.

 

A flush colours the omega’s skin, and Derek finally reaches out to touch him, sliding his fingertips up Stiles’ legs, up the insides of his thighs, which are spread easily for him. 

 

And again the scent increases. 

 

“You smell incredible,” Derek purrs, finally climbing onto the bed, leaning down so that he can press their lips together. Stiles meets him and returns the gesture hungrily.

 

He rolls his hips down and their bodies rub together through the two thin layers of their remaining clothes. Stiles moans into the kiss, fingers gripping at Derek needily. Pressing into his skin, feeling the muscles beneath them flex.

 

“You ready for me?” Derek pants, even though he can smell that truth, and knows how wet Stiles will be when he pulls his underwear off. He knows how it will feel to push in, to have that hot, sweet wetness close around him. 

 

He wants it now, even without Stiles’ frantic nodding in confirmation. 

 

Derek sits up, letting Stiles’ thighs fall open either side of him again, and finishes undressing them both. His cock pulses, the base aching as he sees the amount of slick shining on Stiles’ thighs. He wants to leans down and lick them, but Stiles’ hands are reaching and grabbing and pulling him down again, legs wrapping around Derek once again to draw him closer until the head of his cock is pushing into Stiles, whose body offers no resistance, though it’s tight and so, so good. 

 

Derek growls and thrusts forward, making Stiles cry out. It’s such a sweet sound it seems sinful to not do it again, drawing his hips back and slamming in hard.

 

Stiles clings to him, fingers moving up to fist in his hair, caressing as he moans out shamelessly.

 

They’re doing it this way. Hard, rough, loud. Derek isn’t usually loud in bed, but this time his moans match Stiles’ in volume and need, growling out each time he rocks in. Stiles is beautiful, pale skin flushed, back arched, his shoulder muscles flexing as he clings on. And Derek can feel the other parts, his softer parts moving, cushioning Derek as he fucks him. 

 

Stiles shifts, lifts his legs higher to take Derek deeper, and then screams out, his muscles clenching around Derek, slickness leaking down his shaft. 

 

“Tell me,” Derek demands, taking hold of Stiles’ wrists and pinning them above his head.

 

“Right there, I want you right there, so good-” Stiles babbles breathlessly. “I can feel your knot, Der- I can feel it. Please don’t. Don’t stop. Knot me.”

 

Derek growls again happily, and his knot swells a little more, beginning to catch on Stiles’ rim.

 

The sound of their bodies moving is filthy. Stiles is so wet, so slick and the bed beneath them is groaning under the power of Derek’s thrusting. 

 

“Don’t stop, Derek, please-”

 

Derek is obviously not going to stop. Stiles is getting tighter and tighter and then his words are no more than moans, body arching, straining against Derek’s grip on his wrists.

 

Stiles comes suddenly, hard, muscles gripping Derek so tightly that he can’t pull out for a moment, but he feels heat wash through the space between then and slick floods out of him. Derek keeps rolling his hips until he can move again, but by that point his knot has swollen and he can’t pull out, just grind, rubbing his knot against Stiles’ sensitive rim, which makes his boy moan even more, writhing helplessly as another trembling orgasm rolls through him.

 

“Good boy,” Derek praises him, breathless as he chases his own orgasm, aided by the clenching of Stiles’ muscles. “Yeah, I’m there. Fuck, good boy, I’m there, I’m gonna give you everything-” he continues before he growls, stilling as he fills Stiles, who melts and comes again with a shudder.

 

Derek groans, mouthing at Stiles’ neck, wanting to suck a bruise there. Thankfully there a part of his brain that reminds him that Stiles has to work (and with his father no less) so he shouldn’t. No marks.

 

Derek’s hips roll again, another wave of pleasure rolling through him. His knot aches, swollen and gripped by Stiles’ fluttering body. 

 

“Tell me,” he says again, because now Stiles is just whimpering.

 

“So good,” Stiles pants. “God, that was so good.”

 

He wipes his hand- the one Derek doesn’t still have pinned to the bed - across his brow, and Derek sees that brief flint of light on the ring Stiles now wears. 

 

He kisses him, swallowing down a surprised moan from Stiles, who doesn’t resist at all, but returns it with passion that Derek can taste.

 

Their mouths part just a fraction to allow them to breathe. Derek’s knot is pulsing gently, and Stiles twitches slightly every few moments, his rim still sensitive.

 

They probably shouldn’t make a habit of this, Derek thinks. He’ll get too attached. But they need to make it seem like they’re a couple, and this is kind of convincing.

 

Stiles will smell of him. Of his orgasm. His bed- He moans happily and touches their lips together again, getting a little laugh from Stiles. 

 

“You seem pleased with yourself,” Stiles whispers, stroking his fingers through Derek’s hair. 

 

“I am,” Derek nods. “Can you blame me?” 

 

Stiles shrugs his shoulders, then pulls Derek down to kiss him again

 

It’s slow this time. Their tongues meet, rub against each other languidly- Derek’s knot throbs periodically, happy pulses of pleasure rushing through him. Stiles is going to be so full.

 

His legs remain wrapped around Derek, and it’s easy for Derek to pick him up and turn them so that Stiles is against the pillows and they can relax until they can part. 

 

Stiles’ fingers run gently up and down Derek’s back, his eyes closed. His heart is still pounding quickly, basking in the wonderful combination of their scents. 

 

“How big is our bed going to be?” Stiles asks sleepily.

 

“As big as you want. I’ll let you pick. You can pick all the decor-” Derek replies gently, nuzzling against Stiles’ neck, kissing his throat.

 

“Gotta be big. We look like the kind of couple who’d have a big bed for kinky shit.”

 

Derek snorts. “Kinky shit?”

 

“Mh,” Stiles smiles, opening his eyes and grinning. His head, turned slightly towards the bedside table, fixes on the ring box.

 

He reaches for it, taking it in his hands and removing the remaining ring.

 

“May I?” he asks quietly, and Derek, after allowing a moment for his brain to catch up, shifts his weight onto his right arm, holding up his left hand for Stiles.

 

Stiles slides the ring onto his ring finger with a reverence that makes Derek’s chest hurt, makes his brain stutter, makes him forget for the moment that this is still pretend. 

 

His knot throbs gently. Stiles lets out a breath.

 

Derek has no idea how to unpack all of his feelings right now, so he leans down to kiss Stiles again. 

 

**

 

Stiles is spread out on the bed in just his underwear, eating a spring roll and frowning at the television. 

 

Beside him, Derek has a container of rice and Thai green curry, looking alternately between the television and the paperwork he has decided to properly read through before he gets anything drawn up tomorrow. The official size of the amount of land the Hale name is attached to is beyond anything Derek could have imagined, but it does explain where a lot of his finances come from. 

 

Large chunks of Beacon Hills pay rent on the estate, whose borders are ridiculous, but the size that a normal wolf territory would be. 

 

The finances are taken care of elsewhere by someone assigned by Talia, though Derek recognises the name as one he has seen so many times on various pieces of paperwork that he hadn’t paid attention to hit before. He should, he needs to take care of all of this since Peter has no interest in the hows and whys as long as his money is there at the end, and Malia doesn’t have access to these things.

 

It’s a lot of weight on his shoulders and Derek is starting to feel it again.

 

He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, and attempts to focus.

 

The sheet of paper is plucked from his fingers by Stiles, who readjusts himself and starts to read.

 

“Are you going to explain like I’m five?” Derek asks, secretly relieved and allowing himself to relax with his food for a moment. 

 

“Or I’ll give you a concise summary,” Stiles replies, eyebrows raised as he skims the page. “You’re one ballin’ werewolf.”

 

Derek snorts. “Okay, thanks.”

 

Stiles reaches over him for the other papers, and settles down to read them the way other people read a newspaper. But Derek has no reason to doubt Stiles’ knowledge of land and property law. Nothing would surprise him. 

 

He actually reclines and eats his food, watching the television and letting Stiles get on with it. 

 

  
  


“Okay.” It’s maybe fifteen minutes later. Stiles is flushed. He smells like summer in the woods. “I can see why people are interested in this land. You have a fuck load, and it’s very lucrative. Did you know about all this?”

 

“No. I never saw a map. I didn’t know we owned half the town,” Derek replies, his humility allowing him to be somewhat embarrassed by the riches he is unintentionally flaunting.

 

“More than. I mean, shit, we were always saying the Hales owned Beacon Hills just as a turn of phrase. Most powerful family. But uh, it turns out you do own most of the land. And it’s bringing in so much money. I mean, Scott obviously has no idea.” Stiles knows it would have come up in discussion more than once is Scott had any inkling as to what the territory he had been caretaking - for lack of a better word - was worth. 

 

No. Derek had never even considered handing over the money that came with his name. But he’d had no idea that nearly all of it came from the land.

 

“And another pack would- if they could take this, they’d be made. Derek, you must be loaded.” Stiles says it as though it’s a thing he can’t even comprehend. But Derek doesn’t really look at his money. He just knows it’s there, and his inability to lead a lavish lifestyle means that he doesn’t have to worry.

 

And technically this is what Stiles is mating in to. This is his, too. As the mate of the alpha. But Stiles has moved on without even touching on that. Because that isn’t happening. And doesn’t Derek just feel like a piece of shit for dangling that carrot?

 

“Fact is, you can build pretty much anywhere. The land leases need extended periods of notice before eviction-”

 

“I don’t want to build on any occupied land. Just- somewhere empty.” He knows where already, and he’d pointed it out to Stiles. Edge of the woods. Easy to get to. Close enough to the land he’d always known as his, far enough away from the shell of the old house.

 

“There’s nothing to stop you putting Plan B into action. Pick your spot, break ground, talk the big talk,” Stiles says, shuffling the papers together again. “I think, though, you really do need to consider who is going to inherit this from you. You need to think of that legally. You can let it pass to the county, but I’m guessing there are going to be some conflicts between wolf law and human law, so think on it.”

 

Derek looks at Stiles. He wants to tell him how incredibly attractive he is, and how sexy Stiles’ big brain is-

 

“Can you stay tonight?” he asks instead.

 

Stiles cheeks flush, and the scent of the forest (home, comfort, and sanctuary) increases for a moment. 

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says quietly, rolling off of the bed and getting to his feet. 

 

Derek feels rejected, but fuck, he was the one- he changed the plan. Anything that could have been between them again went out the window when Derek had said he didn’t want a baby with Stiles. When he had suggested they just fake everything because it would be easier. Fake it even though there is obviously something there between them. 

 

He could have asked Stiles if they could date. It didn’t have to involve a baby. It didn’t have to be pretend. But those were the words he’d used.

 

_ I don’t want a baby, I’d rather put in the effort of acting than have to commit to you. _

 

Derek sighs, appetite lost, watching Stiles dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're getting there. I know this is a bit of an admin chapter, but every porn needs an admin chapter. Real plot coming up, bbs.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone (Stiles) is confused about what's going on, and everyone (Stiles) just wants it to be over.
> 
> Unfortunately for everyone (Stiles), it's just about to get a little more difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news! I've finished writing this fic, and now I just need to type it all up and edit it! Thank you all so much for your patience. It's been a really, really difficult few months since my last update. I had a close family member pass, I've resumed uni on top of my full time job, and my mental health is very, very poor right now.
> 
> But I just really want to add, please, if you could refrain from leaving me comments about when I'm updating, or complaining that I'm not updating fast enough- that isn't going to work. It just makes me more anxious, it makes me sad that I'm disappointing people, but this is just a hobby. I have a lot going on, and I'm not being paid for this, and I don't want to be a dick about it, but please just be patient.

 

The ring on his finger is taking time to get used to. Stiles is easily distracted by it, by the weight and the way it feels, the way it catches the light when he moves it (purposefully or not). He’d felt something when he’d first put it on, knowing it was Talia’s, knowing that Derek had chosen these rings specifically, his parents rings, for him and Stiles to wear.

 

But specifically to make this look more real. Stiles remembers that. 

 

Of course it doesn’t take long for his dad to notice. Stiles had been hesitant to broach the subject with him initially. The whole thing from ‘oh, hey, Derek is coming back to defend his territory from a pack of strange wolves who want to take over the town’ to ‘And I’m going to have his baby to help with that’ because that’s a whole mountain of things for John to worry about. He doesn’t want to stress his dad out. The town has been so peaceful and quiet for so long. No supernatural shenanigans. 

 

So he had the abridged version; Hale land questioned. Stiles is Derek’s fake mate for reasons. 

  
  


“Is that from Derek?” his dad’s voice is gentle, but still surprises Stiles out of his thoughts, his attention slipping from the ring he’s been staring at whilst at work. 

 

That John is now also looking at.

 

“Yeah, it’s part of our deep cover. Now I’m the future Mr. Hale,” Stiles replies sardonically. 

 

“Oh. Do you...have to wear it now? Why not wait until your inspection?”

 

There’s something so endearing about that choice of words. It makes Stiles want to cry and tell his dad everything that’s weighing on him and get it all out, because fuck, it feels like way too much to keep inside him.

 

“It was Talia’s,” Stiles says instead, voice surprisingly even. “I don’t want to lose it.” And if he takes it off then there’s a chance-that’s exactly what he’s telling himself. 

 

John nods. “He must...like you a lot.”

 

Stiles knows this is awkward for his dad. Not the fact that Derek is a man, his dad has made his feelings on that quite clear, but being an omega and all that that entails.

 

Of course Stiles had told his dad about that little part of the plan. The ‘I’m Derek’s mate and he needs and heir’ part of the plan. Because that wasn’t something he could hide. He was going to be carrying Derek’s child. And Stiles wants it, and the baby would help the pack  _ and _ make him feel good. And Derek is a good man. 

 

It had been a lot for John to take on board, but he had done so, because he at least understood that there was a lot he didn’t understand. 

 

“He- I don’t know-” Derek had fallen into bed with him easily enough. “Not enough to have a child with me. This is just for show-” he lifts his hand and wiggles the ring finger, trying (and failing) to keep the bitterness from his expression. 

 

“What?” John asks, a familiar confused expression on his face. 

 

“There’s been a change of plan,” Stiles says curtly. “We aren’t having a baby. Just faking a relationship until the other pack have gone. Just a marriage of convenience.”

 

“Oh,” John frowns. Stiles knows his dad knows how much this means. How much it meant. “Well, there’ll be someone else.”

 

And he knows his dad means well, but this set up had been perfect. Derek’s baby. It would have solved a lot of problems. 

 

Neither of them had said anymore about it after that conversation. And Stiles knew that he wasn’t going to bring it up again. Derek seemed to feel some guilt about pulling the plug, and Stiles wasn’t the kind of asshole to make him feel worse. 

 

“I’m going to California for my heat,” he says. “Week after next.”

 

“Oh? Why wouldn’t you-” John cuts himself off, because he knows he won’t understand, and he knows his son isn’t one to make rash decisions. 

 

“Be with Derek? It’d be too much, dad. Too intense. I built up this idea in my head that this would be something else, and it isn’t, so- and you know-” Stiles rubs his hands over his face, a weight settling in his stomach. “I’m in love with him. So it’d just hurt.”

 

John sighs, nods, and then reaches for his son’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s gonna be okay, Stiles.”

 

“I know, dad.”

  
  


He’s surprised when he sees an email from Derek waiting for him when he gets home from work. Attached is a rough blueprint of their house. The house Derek has been planning. Despite everything it warms him inside, a smile on his face.

 

His games room is there. The basement is divided up. His games room. Derek’s movie room.

 

The bedrooms are all on the second floor. Three of them. All ensuite. Their room is at the...their room? Stiles doesn’t know if he should be thinking of it that way, or if it’s just ‘Derek’s room’.

 

But his games room is there.

 

It’s hurting his brain a little bit to keep thinking about it. All the unanswered questions neither of them have broached, as though they’re just hoping it will all fall into place through some magical means.

 

Stiles is suddenly exhausted. He pulls off his clothes and leaves them in a pile by the door to deal with tomorrow. 

 

One more day, then the weekend. He can lock himself away and try and get his head together. 

  
  


That night Stiles dreams of their stupid house. Stupid, beautiful house. Stupid, beautiful children. Stupid, beautiful Derek.

  
  


Regardless of his plans, Stiles is awake early on Saturday morning. He and Derek didn’t talk at all the day before, and it had been a strange relief. The ring is still on his finger, though, a constant, nagging reminder of his...commitment. He finds himself looking at it more frequently. Just looking at it. It was Talia’s…

 

**Stiles** : What are you doing today? X

 

He sends it to Derek and wonders why. But it’s done now. Stiles gets out of bed, picks up one of the three books he’s reading, and goes downstairs to have breakfast. He doesn’t really expect to hear back from Derek. Not that they parted on bad terms, but Stiles is rather under the impression that they aren’t going to make a show unless it is necessary. 

 

At least he’s doing a good job of convincing himself of that. Because being in love with Derek has never gotten any easier. 

 

His dad is working this morning, so there is no one to judge him having a massive cup of coffee, a spoonful of Nutella from the jar, and four slices of toast.

 

He’s soft in all the right places, anyway (so he’s been told) so it isn’t going to make a whole lot of difference. 

 

His phone beeps, and he turns his head to consider it. 

 

**Derek:** I’m going down to mark up the land for surveyors. Do you want to come?

 

That was fast, Stiles thinks. But then money talks, and Derek is now in possession of more money than either of them can comprehend. He has no reason to go, no obligation, but it feels like something he should do. Okay, part of him also really wants to. 

 

**Stiles:** Yeah, I’ll be there. Make sure I get enough space for my games room x

 

**Derek:** I’ll be there about eleven. See you soon.

  
  


Stiles really doesn’t know why he’s doing this to himself. Why he’s going to join Derek to help them build on this lie. Maybe Derek will even go ahead and have the house built, and he’ll have to go past it every day and think of that imaginary life they could have had, with the child that was briefly a part of their future.

 

He’s emotional, though. He knows his brain isn’t running at it’s full potential right now. His hormones are all messed up, because his heat is coming. He’ll feel better after. Until next time.

  
  


Stiles showers, dresses, has another coffee, and eats some more before he gets in his car and drives to the place he knows Derek will be waiting. Not an address, not yet. Maybe Derek will name it. Something elegant and classical, no doubt. Or Latin. 

 

It’s easier to get to than the other house, for certain, just a few minutes down a wooded road that runs along the borders of the land. Or what had been assumed to be the land. Stiles sees Derek and a few men who are presumably in the business of building houses, because they seem to be mapping out the land with string and poles and cameras. 

 

Stiles parks behind Derek’s car and gets out, feeling a little bit like he’s intruding. But Derek smiles when he sees him, striding over and, to his surprise, wrapping him in a hug.

 

“I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you came. They’re planning out whether the blueprints are possible,” Derek says, his arm around Stiles’ waist.

 

“Are we putting on a show for the builders, too?” Stiles asks, trying to sound teasing, but there’s a bitterness in his voice he can’t quite hide. 

 

Derek looks down at him and frowns. “It’s our house, Stiles. It doesn’t matter either way.”

 

Stiles frowns back and wants to object, but he has no idea what he’s objecting to, or what Derek is implying. So he walks beside him until they’re where the front door will be-

 

“We’ll have a driveway, so the house is further back from the road. I want to plant trees and hedges around to block out the sound, keep us private-”

 

“Make sure the kids don’t run out into the road,” Stiles replies. He can play along. He wants this fantasy, after all.

 

“How many?” Derek asks.

 

“Three. Or four,” Stiles replies, leaning into Derek. “Ideally a mix of genders but I’m not fussy.”

 

“Me neither,” Derek says, as though there’s a possibility that this is going to happen. As though there’ll be even one child.

 

“Your last name,” he says.

 

“Hyphenated,” Derek replies.

 

“Hale-Stilinski?”

 

“Stilinski-Hale flows better. Plus, we want to keep both family names going, right?”

 

Derek seems so serious, looks so serious that Stiles’ confusion deepens. Though maybe it shouldn’t. They’re both wearing their rings. They’re both playing the game. 

 

He leans into Derek. It calms him somewhat, his scent and the firmness of his body.

 

A man with a clipboard walks towards them, nodding at Stiles and addressing Derek.

 

They discuss the foundations, the land, the cost of bringing the pipes and electric cables over. Derek waves off the money, and Stiles can’t help but feel a little flush of arousal from that. And maybe Derek notices (of course Derek notices) because his arm tightens slightly around Stiles, and he says

 

“Money really isn’t a problem. As long as it’s going to work and is reliable.”

 

Stiles grins and ducks his head, and he’s glad the foreman seems oblivious to everything. 

 

“Did you just bring me here to show off?” Stiles asks as they pace around the perimetre. 

 

“You know I didn’t,” Derek says, his voice soft and almost apologetic.

 

Stiles smiles. “It’s fine. Your wealth is alarmingly sexy.”

 

Derek laughs. He doesn’t laugh a lot, not in the past anyway, but it’s a beautiful sound, and Stiles really wishes he could be the reason for it more often. It takes years off of Derek, and if anyone deserves to feel relaxed it’s his sour wolf. If anyone deserves nice things, finally, it’s Derek. 

 

“You’re a typical omega. Just after a rich alpha to buy you pretty things,” Derek teases. 

 

“It’s true. You know me so well.”

 

“Do you like this spot?” Derek asks, hand gesturing around the land. 

 

“It’s a bit late now, isn’t it?” Stiles replies, nodding at the markers being pressed in all over the ground.

 

“They’ll move them if I ask. Do you like it?” Derek queries again. 

 

“Yeah. It’s easier to get to than the old house,” Stiles says. It’s not  _ theirs _ , though. He’s still perplexed as to why his opinion means so much. This isn’t  _ their _ home. Even if it finally takes shape as a monument to their non-existent relationship, what does it  matter where it is, or what rooms they have? Unless Derek is just very dedicated to this lie.

 

Derek nods, satisfied. “Do you want to go and get lunch?” 

 

Stiles’ heat is making him stupid. He knows that. Because he really, really wants to go to lunch, and then maybe go back to Derek’s bed again. He could really do with that. But it’s a bad idea-

 

Derek’s phone begins to ring and, still with his arm around Stiles, he answers.

 

“Hey-” the arm tightens, and though Stiles can’t hear what’s happening, he senses the tension building up in Derek. “Yeah. Okay. That’s fine. Everything is fine. Don’t worry. See you.”

 

Derek hangs up and pockets his phone, letting out a breath. 

 

“We’re expecting visitors tomorrow,” he says softly. “So- well. It’s fine. We’re doing fine.” Derek’s eyes dart around the layout of their foundations, and it seems to satisfy him. “You should stay with me tonight, though. Until they go.”

 

“What?”

 

“You need to smell like me. We need to smell like each other,” Derek reminds him. 

 

Stiles tries to think of a protest, but he can’t. Derek has a point. And if they’re not doing anything else, they could at least do that. 

 

“Okay, okay-” Stiles nods. “I guess I’ll go home and pack a bag for...however long they’re staying?”

 

“Deaton didn’t say. I guess just a couple of days, if that. I mean, what else can they do once they’ve checked up on us?”

 

“Well, they do say Beacon Hills is one of the prime green spots in this part of the state. Maybe camping? Hiking?” Stiles doesn’t really know, but he wants to lighten the mood. “I’ll be over in a bit, then.” He moves away from Derek to go back to his car. He has to let his dad know he won’t be home. And that they’re expecting company. “I’ll text the others and let them know we’re engaged,” he adds over his shoulder, because that seems to be wise. They all need to be on the same page.

 

Derek smiles what looks like a genuine smile, and Stiles is left as confused as ever.

 

He just blames his hormones.

  
  


Deaton always looks calm. It’s a gift. An enviable gift.

 

He doesn’t look at all concerned with the pending visit or the threat their visitors might pose. 

 

Everyone else looks worried. It looks like the day before an exam. But really it’s only a few of them getting tested. 

 

Stiles is fiddling with his engagement ring, turning it slowly around on his finger. It’s taken Derek a long time to get used to the feeling of something there. Something that belonged to his dad.

 

“Well, I really don’t think there’s much need for concern,” Deaton begins. “All we have to do is agree that Derek and Stiles are mates, that they’re engaged, that they’re happy together, and- well, we’ve all known them long enough-”

 

Scott’s expression clearly says that he doesn’t even want to think about Derek and Stiles together, let alone having to tell people they are.

 

Derek doesn’t like the way he’s looking at the ring on Stiles’ finger.

 

“So-” Stiles speaks up. “Derek and I have kind of been into each other for a while, since we met, but initially I was too young for him, and I didn’t know I was into guys. But we grew closer, we just never thought the timing was right, what with all the crap that was always going on around here. And there were other people- It was just never the right time for us. Derek went away to work for a while, and then when he came back was the time I presented as an omega. And we thought maybe now this was a sign. Derek had to keep going away to attend to his business, but now he’s back for good, and we’re finally settling down.”

 

Not only does it sound plausible, but Derek also thinks that a lot of it is the truth. Maybe a slightly more manageable truth, but it’s not all a complete fabrication. 

 

“I’d buy that,” Lydia nods, agreeable possibly just because it’s easy to do so.

 

“We’re building a house,” Derek adds quietly, his eyes on Stiles because that makes things easier somehow. “So, um, well it’s on my parents land. I have papers and plans and stuff. So- there’s that.”

 

“What about your baby?” Malia asks. Derek watches Stiles flinch, and doesn’t know if his cousin is being untactful or just malicious.

 

“We’re waiting until we’re married,” Derek says, certain that he sounds more convincing than Stiles would. “And until the house is built properly. We can’t have a newborn in a hotel, and Stiles can’t live on a building site.”

 

“So you’re not having a baby?” Scott asks, clearly unaware of how much the glee in his expression is hurting Stiles. 

 

“No,” Stiles bites out. “We aren’t having a baby.”

 

Scott still seems impervious to Stiles’ mood, and Derek can’t very well make a scene right here. But then it seems as though he doesn’t have to-

 

“I think we’re done here. We know what’s happening,” Stiles stands up, shooting Scott another dirty look before holding out his hand to Derek. “Come on, we need to go home and get some rest. Or not. It’s nearly my heat, after all.” The dirty look melts into a smirk, and it’s convincing enough that Derek feels a rush of heat through his body. 

 

Scott’s face drops at that, and whilst Derek would normally protest being used for sex, he has no complaints, it’s worth it for that sour expression. 

  
  


“I’m back on my pill, so it really shouldn’t be a problem,” Stiles adds to Derek once they’re out of hearing range. “Pretty sure I can lay next to you and not beg you to knot me.”

 

Derek hopes his genuine disappointment isn’t showing on his face, because that would be inappropriate. He isn’t one of  _ those _ alphas. And he supposes Stiles is trying to reassure him, since Derek was so adamant about the baby. A pill and no sex, both very good preventative measures. 

 

It’s nice going home with Stiles, though. Having him sit beside him in the car in comfortable silence as they head back to the hotel. As though this is normal. As though they always do this.

 

And Stiles makes himself at home in Derek’s room. He’d brought stuff over earlier, his laptop, clothes, books. He kicks off his shoes and drops onto the bed, reclining and looking at his phone. Derek is a little more methodical in his arrival, taking off his shoes, jacket, washing his hands, changing into his sweatpants, ready to relax for the evening.

 

Stiles doesn’t even look up at him. Not that Derek thinks that just because he’s shirtless he should pay attention to his body, but he is a little put out that he doesn’t even get a glance. 

 

And Stiles is  _ very _ adamant about not looking at him or talking to him, concentrating on whatever is on his phone. So Derek reads, looking up when Stiles goes to change, but still there’s nothing. 

 

Derek falls asleep surprisingly quickly.

  
  


Stiles knows he’s being a dick, but he can’t trust himself. That’s the main problem here. It’s genuinely the  _ biggest _ problem, resurfacing after all this time.  He’s in love with Derek and he really doesn’t want to be. 

 

It doesn’t help that Derek is still so smart and charming. Of course being knocked back about the baby hurt, but it didn’t hurt enough, apparently. And now Derek has fallen asleep beside him, easy and peaceful, an overwhelming amount of trust displayed in how relaxed he is. 

 

Stiles is in love with him.

  
  


He wakes up wrapped around Derek, because of course he does. Because fuck his life. But he’s so comfortable and Derek smells so good. Warm alpha. Stiles doesn’t really get to smell that a lot because he doesn’t stick around, and if he does he’s in his heat and it doesn’t smell like this. 

 

Stiles knows he can’t be here for that. He can’t spend his heat with Derek. The other pack will surely have been satisfied after a day or two, so he can head to California. 

 

That’s just how it has to be. For his own sanity. It doesn’t mean that he plans on unwrapping himself from around Derek, though. And it certainly doesn’t mean he’s going to resist when Derek stretches and turns towards him, holding him close to his chest. Stiles melts into him, like he’s meant to be  here. A little omega curled up with his alpha.

 

Derek hasn’t taken his ring off, either. It keeps catching Stiles’ eye. And of course it belonged to his father, so Derek has every right to wear it, but it can’t be for the same reason Stiles does.

 

It still touches him that Derek chose those rings for their little display. 

 

“I can hear you thinking,” Derek says quietly, the words pressed to Stiles’ brow.

 

“Can you hear  _ what _ I’m thinking?” Stiles teases softly.

 

“No. I don’t quite have those powers,” Derek says. “What’s up?”

 

“Just thinking. Nothing much. Just a lot going on.” He doesn’t move away from Derek, stays pressed against his side, and Derek keeps him there.

 

“Ready to greet our guests?” Derek murmurs, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m not in the mood to entertain.”

 

“Just shake hands and tell them you’re busy running all your land.”

 

Derek smiles- “I wish. But it’ll be over soon.”

 

“Yeah.” And then his heat, Stiles is still- he’s still very much going to go to California. Still has no intention of spending it with Derek, and putting himself through that. 

 

Even if this is the happiest he’s ever been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://ko-fi.com/tulikettu

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really have much by way of a posting schedule, but it won't be any more than a month between updates. I'm aiming for less than that, but I'm in a different place in my life to where I was last time I was writing. However, I do have a lot of it written out, so it's just a case of editing and typing it up. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading the first chapter! 
> 
> Comments make me happy, but I am available on discord if any of you lurk on there; Tulikettu#0322


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